Dreams Change
by jennii.b
Summary: Things never seem to work out as they're supposed to... Toby and the crew explore new relationships as his role in his family takes an unexpected turn, bringing a new side to light. (Inspired in part by my fascination with the main character & the subplot of his relationship with his brother as well as the hardships of working such a demanding job.
1. Chapter 1: PHONE CALLS

The crew was gathered in the press room, prepping the president for the next day's Q & A with kids from the local public school's gifted program. Shannon's assistant Megan stepped in and handed her a note. Shannon read it, then got up and followed her to the anteroom at the back. There Megan conveyed what additional information she had. It was the screaming that garnered the attention of everyone up front, including the president.

"He what?!" Shannon shouted at the hapless aide. "Is he serious?! How can he _do_ that? CAN you just do that?!"

Megan's reply was brief and muffled. She had her head held high against her boss's tirade.

For a moment the women stood, just staring at each other. Both wore slightly mournful faces.

"Is everything all right?" the president called in a voice designed to carry.

Shannon started to step down from the back observation room/work area. "Yes, sir. If I can just have a moment?"

He nodded in his friendly manner and redirected his attention to the question CJ had asked him. Shannon spoke very briefly with Megan and then rejoined the group.

"What's up?" Josh asked, leaning forward to speak into her ear as she sat once more.

"Nothing." Shannon was lying and everyone in the room knew it.

"The bill?" Toby asked.

"No." She shook her head, then sighed. "It's personal."

The prep continued. Afterward Shannon raced to her office to take a call via satellite.

Later that afternoon as everyone was considering dinner options, Toby was admitted to Leo's office.

"I...um...I have to go," he announced bluntly. In fact his coat and brief case were in a chair beside Margaret's desk.

Leo looked up, surprised. "Why?" the distress in Toby's voice and face were of concern.

"My brother..." Toby swallowed. "My brother's children are at the hospital. I need to go."

"Is everything all right? They okay?"

Toby shook his head. "I don't know. The babysitter was in a car accident and they were in the back. My...um...my father is older and he can't..."

"What can we do, Toby?" Leo asked, rising and coming around the desk.

"The kids are with Children's Services. They're at the hospital. They got banged up. My father can't take care of them. My brother's orbiting the atmosphere again. My sister can't do anything. And they have my name." Toby was getting worked up, throwing his arms out with each new sentence. Leo called him back to the here and now.

"Talk to Shannon."

"I'm sorry?"

Leo's face was sincere. "Talk to Shannon. She's had to deal with some of the same kind of thing today."

"Shannon, as in Shannon Guyse, the Junior Deputy Chief of Staff?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact...MARGARET!...you're headed for the airport? And your brother's family is in Texas?"

"Florida, actually," Toby corrected.

Leo's assistant burst in. "Yes, Mr. McGarry?"

"See if Shannon's left yet and see if she'd mind if Toby rode with her."

"Yes, sir."

"Leo. What the hell?"

"Shae's on her way to pick up her brother's kids. His almost-ex-nanny picked the closest airport and that's as far as she's willing to take them."

Toby's face made it clear that Leo hadn't really given him any appreciation of the situation.

"Her brother decided since his wife left a couple months ago that he'd rather not be a single parent. He called today to let her know that she could have the kids if she wanted them."

Toby blinked a couple of times and then shook his head once.

"What?"

"Something's going on. He's in the space program. I don't know all the details." Leo's face lit up. "Hey, just like your brother!"

"Leo, despite my differences with David, I really don't believe that he'd offer his children to someone else on a whim." Toby sighed. "Never mind. Yes he would. I didn't even know she had a brother."

"Yeah, well, she's never run around with 'I love Stephen' buttons on. She hates his guts. He really is a jackass. He wouldn't take her when their dad died." Leo looked around the office. "It'll probably be said that this is for the best in the long run."

"Okay, then."

"Go. I'll fix things up with the president."

Shannon chose that moment to enter.

"Shannon, can Toby catch a ride with you to the airport?"

Toby started to speak. "Actually, I..."

Leo interrupted him. "Forget it. Either you ride with her or you take a cab. I don't want you driving like this. Better her at the wheel pissed off than you worried and distracted."

"Okay, then."

Shannon nodded and started to leave. She still hadn't spoken.

Leo caught her arm. "Wait up, kid." He cupped her face in his palms and pulled her down, kissing her forehead. "Anything you need, you call me. _Any time_-day or night."

She smiled a crumpled smile, blinked several times to hold back tears and answered him. "Thank you, Leo. I should be back tomorrow. I just don't know what I'm going to do for..."

"We'll figure it out. That's why you have friends. Don't rush anything, don't kill anybody. Just take care of yourself and the kids and keep me in the loop." He offered his hand to Toby next. "Same for you. Day or night. Any hour."

"Thank you, Leo."

They bustled out the door, stopping to pick up Toby's things and then heading to Shannon's office to grab hers.

In the car they were pretty much silent. Shannon jumped a mile when his cell phone rang. He answered it and then announced, "It's the president."

With the phone on the speaker setting he held it so that both of them could easily hear and be heard.

"Go ahead, sir," he told their boss.

"Leo's told me what's going on-with both of you."

"Yes, sir," Toby replied.

"I want you to know that you're in our thoughts and prayers, both of you. Shannon, Sam knows a lawyer-he says a good one-who specializes in custody disputes."

"Thank you, sir, but I don't even know what jurisdiction this will fall in. I think Stephen's going to have to work with me a little bit to iron out the legalities. And his wife will need to be found before we can move on anything permanent. What I need first is power of attorney for the kids."

"It wouldn't hurt to talk to him."

"No, sir. You're right, sir."

"And I'm right about this, too. There will be no mad rush to get back tomorrow. Nothing's going to happen on a Friday anyway. And until you've had a baby you can't really appreciate how they wear on you. Toby, Mrs. Landingham's calling now to get some reservations for you. She'll let you know something."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Now, don't either one of you get prickly on me-and neither one of you answer until you've thought about it...are you okay for cash?"

Shannon laughed. Toby, too, cracked a smile. He lived on his government salary-certainly not a fast track to luxury, but not too big a hardship since he never got out of the office to spend anything; asking Shannon if she needed money was tantamount to asking a Rockefeller. "Yes, Dad," he quipped.

"I don't think that's funny. Here I am, trying to help-trying to be supportive."

"It was a very sweet offer, sir." Shannon told him.

"Don't you try to butter me up. You laughed first!"

"Yes, sir."

"And children are expensive. Babies especially." He stopped for breath and they could envision him drawing himself up in his characteristic way. "Now, drive carefully and let us know if we can do anything for you."

Both replied with a chorus of "yes, sir" and "thank you, sir" and words to that effect.


	2. Chapter 2: ON THE FLY

As Shannon stood at the gates of the airport her cell phone buzzed. She'd set it on vibrate and looked down to find a text message from the manager of the hotel where her apartment claimed top billing. She found her way to the nearest exit-a parking deck-and called his desk. Toby, still on standby for a flight, wandered out with her.

"Gerald, what are you doing at work at eleven p.m.?" she asked him.

"Oh, Miss Shannon, your father told me!" Gerald had a British accent and was convinced that Leo was Shannon's father. Mallory he relegated to some poorer relation. He was very much a snob. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Gerald. It's so kind of you to offer, but I can't think of a thing right now."

Shannon paced the open and nearly empty deck in the cold crisp air.

"What of the children? Will they need things? I can send someone out to..."

"Oh, Gerald, you're a genius! I will need some help."

"Anything, Miss Shannon. You know that."

"Rebecca is a baby. I know I don't have anything in storage-"

"You'll need a nursery set up in the second bedroom?" Gerald asked. She could almost hear him rubbing his hands together. He loved helping her to arrange her great multitude of furniture and his mercenary heart thrilled at her [demand/love] for fine craftsmanship no matter the cost. "Will you want something in a light wood or maybe a white-"

"Actually, Joseph, my nephew, will need the spare bedroom. Do you have a pen handy?" Gerald and a shopping list were the perfect distraction for her right then. "I think there's a more masculine twin bed in the warehouse down by the Potomac. If there aren't keys in the purser's office call Margaret from Leo's office and she'll be able to track some down. I'll need a bigger dresser in there as well. And perhaps a bookcase. You'll be able to help me judge what fixtures and such need to be stored or moved higher, right?"

"Of course, Madame. My own Theodore is nearly eight, you see."

"Perfect, so you'll know what can withstand a small boy. God love you, Gerald."

"Of course, ma'am. And where are we putting the baby? The master?"

"I suppose she'll do best in my room." A thought suddenly occurred to Shannon. "Does the hotel have cribs and accommodations for guests with children?"

"Yes, but those are typically of a temporary nature."

"So is this."

"Oh! I am sorry! I thought that the children were to remain with you!"

"They are. The crib, I mean. Stephen has arranged for his staff to have the children's belongings brought to D.C."

"From the south? By truck?"

"I assume so. That project hasn't even begun yet and I'm not certain what I'll be receiving. Before we get ahead of ourselves..."

"I understand perfectly, Miss Shannon. I shall have bare minimums in the way of sheets and that sort of thing as well as one of our cribs and a rocking chair taken to your apartment for now. What of food and bottles and...er...diaper station items?"

"Gerald I honestly have no idea what to tell you. Everything's very tentative right now. Hopefully the nanny came prepared."

"Perfect, Madame. A nanny is just the thing, you know, with you being a professional and all."

"Actually that's something else, although I think that it can wait a bit. I'm going to need to hire someone else to watch the children in the afternoons. I need information on daycare options and schools. I only have this nanny until she gets here and then I'm on my own."

"Ouch."

Shannon laughed.

"I will do my best, ma'am, although it being the weekend..."

"I was only speaking out loud, Gerald. If you'll take care of the furniture for me I would be eternally indebted to you."

"Consider it done, and my privilege to help you and those poor orphans."

"They certainly will be when I get ahold of Stephen."

"Delightful, Madame. And if I may?"

"Of course."

"I could bring an architect friend of mine up to the apartment with me-there might be some room to be found for another bedroom. Very soon, I think, you're going to want to explore that possibility. You could have several options already at hand..."

"Of course, Gerald, although we'll need to run that my Mr. McGarry."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Actually-the other penthouse is empty, isn't it?" she asked. Hers was one of two spanning the top floor of the hotel.

"The apartment or the suites?"

"I was thinking the apartment, but could you get me some numbers on the suite below mine as well? Occupancy figures, costs in housekeeping, rates per night, and that sort of thing?"

"I believe so, Miss Shannon, but..."

"I'm thinking of exploiting my relationship with the proprietor of the establishment. If I'm going to make this work I'm going to need more space, not just another bedroom. I just want to explore an option or two so that I can best take advantage of Leo."

"I completely understand."

"I don't know what they eat."

"Luckily you live in a hotel with a five-star restaurant on the second floor. And the matre'd adores you. I'll have some basics-milk, cereal, juice boxes, and so on-taken up along with the crib."

"I'm counting my blessings, my friend. Goodnight. And, truly Gerald, my thanks."

"Nonsense, my dear. It truly is a pleasure. Good night."

When Shannon got off the phone Toby was leaning on a divider blowing smoke rings.

"You have some of the most interesting conversations," he started.

She just looked at him. She really wasn't in the mood for one of his pithy monologues about her lifestyle. He plodded on anyway.

"I don't even know where to start," he said. "One penthouse isn't enough?"

"Shut up, Toby.'

"There are two-family houses in this city that aren't as big as your apartment."

She leveled him with another intolerant look. "There is no reason for me to live like a pauper. And I like big open spaces. Don't be petty about money."

"And you had to specify a certain warehouse. Is it possible you have multiple warehouses full of furniture in addition to that that's in your apartment?" he asked anyway.

"I own a couple of warehouses, yes. And I store some things that I've inherited or acquired over the years in one of them, yes."

"What's in the others?"

"Huh?"

"What's in the other warehouse space?"

Shannon shrugged, her face mystified. "Whatever people are willing to pay to store. It's not like I have an entire warehouse full of extra furniture. And to show how un-petty I am, when you get back I'll let you go through my stuff."

"Like, for fun?" He looked offended.

"Like, to see if any of it could be of use to you in your new duties as a family man."

"Oh, shit."

"Forgot about that, didn't you?"

"Oh, shit."

"My turn to be nosy. Why isn't your sister going to take them?"

"She won't get involved in anything to do with David. My father's his emergency contact, but he's not able to deal with this sort of thing anymore. I haven't actually spoken to David-it's all been relayed through dad or through children's services. But he can't get back-they're supposed to spend nine months on that space station-and I can't drop everything to stay down there."

"Messy."

It was his turn to level her with a disgusted look. "Yeah," he said dryly when he finally spoke.

"Well, in the interest of being un-petty-"

"You know that's not a word, don't you?"

"Look, buck-o, I'm offering to help you out here! In the interest of being un-petty, when I interview nannies do you want me to see if they're interested in taking care of yours, too-on a temporary basis?"

He looked at her, playing his mouth around the cigar as he thought. "Yeah."

"After all, if she's going to be taking one kid to and from school and doing homework, how much harder could two more be? Mallory has like twenty-seven, twenty-eight kids in her class."

He finished smoking and took her elbow, directing her back into the airport. "I'm pretty sure she teaches older ones, though."

Shannon shrugged. "Don't you have to catch a plane?"

He laughed. They walked together to his departure area. She couldn't walk down to the gate with him, so he paused at the metal detectors and turned to her.

"Thank you," he said.

"Anytime," she shrugged with a smile. Then her face grew serious. "Call me. Or Sam. At least call Sam. We love you and we'll worry about you."

He smirked. Then he surprised them both by kissing her forehead before turning away. As he laid out his belongings on the conveyor he called her back.

She half-turned.

"Cheeseburgers and chicken fingers!"

"What?" she laughed.

"All kids like cheeseburgers and chicken fingers," he called again.

The attendant, an older black man, looked between them.

"She's inheriting a niece and nephew. Six-year-old and a baby. They'll be coming in any time now," Toby explained.

The security guard looked past him to where Shannon now stood with her arms crossed. Toby followed his gaze and was struck by how very alone she seemed. Insecure. Vulnerable. A capable, attractive woman in a soft brown suit that probably cost his entire paycheck seemingly lost among the middle of all the movement and motion of the airport. The same woman who had been so commanding in the conference room mere hours ago. And here she was with her knuckles white where they grasped her elbows. It tugged at his heart and brought out a protective instinct he'd have denied existed. Of all people who needed coddling...

"And cheese pizza!" the wiry guard shouted to Shannon.

It pulled out a smile. Graciously she put her palms together and bowed to the men. Reassured, her friend and companion reloaded his pockets and started down the slope. Toby threw up a hand and waved to her without turning as he walked off and she went back to waiting for her life to change.


	3. Chapter 3: ARRIVALS

Shannon spotted Joseph the moment his shadow crossed the threshold. His recognition was just as instantaneous and just as joyous. He whooped as she caught him up in her arms. He immediately started chattering about the stars and the clouds and the lights on the plane.

"Didn't sleep much, huh?" Shannon asked the fifty-ish woman accompanying him. The woman was carrying the baby in a chest-pouch and had bags slung over her shoulder; a car seat balanced on a stroller occupied her other hand. The woman's visage was evidence that fathers who warned "your face might freeze like that" spoke the truth. It probably curdled milk.

"He doesn't stop talking. Not even when he sleeps." No Mary Poppins, this one. She started divesting herself of the paraphernalia. "There are two more bottles made up in the cooler. Can of formula has directions on it. Bags are marked with big yellow tags."

The woman unclipped the carrier and handed the sleeping child to Shannon.

"Wait, I need to know-"

"Lady, you're Shannon Guyse, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then my job's done."

"But I don't know anything about babies."

She turned around and stared at Shannon. The younger woman could feel her blood freezing.

"You're smart, right? Work for the president and all that? Got a couple of degrees?"

Shannon nodded in terror. Joseph tucked his tiny hand along her elbow and squeezed.

"Then buy a book. Figure it out." She turned away.

"Aw, fuck." Shannon's voice was small and flat. Joseph jerked his head and looked up at her in shock. "Sorry," she said.

"It's okay. I'll help you."

"I know you will. I love you, Joe."

"I know it. I'm fantastic." His confidence was unflappable, this small boy with his blond crew cut and big green eyes. He reminded her of her father. He'd been a compact but powerful man with a no-nonsense work ethic and an off-duty sparkle in his eyes. She could remember her dad making statements like that, convinced of his own superiority and humorous about it. In fact, Shannon repeated the pattern as well. She, too, had her real dad's green eyes, although her hair was dark brown instead of this one's white-blonde. Leo, her surrogate father, joked that since her mother was a red-head and her dad was blonde that she must have gotten her hair color from him.

"Okay, well, let's get to it." Shannon, nervous as a cat, gently removed the child from the harness as Joseph explained the contraption on wheels as being a convertible. He helped her unlatch the car seat part and store it under the stroller, then seat the "pumpkin seat" into the stroller. Shannon was sweating by the time she clipped the fifteen-week-old into the thing.

"I think my dad loves us," Joseph told her suddenly. "I think he's just broken inside."

Shannon sat down where she was, right in the middle of the airport on a fairly busy Thursday night. "What?"

"He paid my mom not to have a 'bor'shun. That's what she wanted to do. But he doesn't like being around kids. I don't understand it myself."

"Me neither." The Chicago came out in her voice with the avowal/colloquialism.

"Are we going to see Aunt Jenny and Uncle Leo?" he asked, hooking a bag's handle over that of the stroller. Shannon's hand automatically reached out to keep the stroller from flipping backwards under the weight.

"Yeah. Not tonight, and we'll have to talk about them, but yeah."

"Aunt Jenny came down last summer. I saw her then. Rebecca didn't, though. She was still in the pregnant."

"Yeah," Shannon said absently. She carefully stood and took control of the stroller.

"She's really beautiful."

"Rebecca or your mother?"

"Well, them, too. But Aunt Jenny. She's the prettiest."

"She is." Shannon fought the strap of the pouch-thing out of the spokes of the wheel and then resumed her exodus to the luggage carousel.

"If you're named after her how come you don't look like her?"

Shannon raised an eyebrow at Joseph. He picked up on it and made a mock-terrified face.

"Not that you're not pretty. You are. Just she's prettiest. You're more like Rebecca."

Shannon exaggerated peering over at the sleeping baby. The bald, pale, chubby, drooling, sleeping baby.

Joseph cracked up. "Not like that! Just she's the prettiest, okay?!" He took a deep breath, bringing himself back under control, and they walked along in companionable silence for a moment.

"Can you really buy a book?"

"What?"

"Can you buy a book about taking care of babies?"

"God, I hope so!"

"Maybe there's a hotline, too. You know-an 800 number?"

"If you see one write it down," Shannon ordered.

"You got it, tootz," the little boy told her as he strutted along.

Toby's dealings with his niece and nephew were a little more stressful. And he was louder. He didn't curse in front of minors, though, so he was one up on her in that department. By sun-up on Friday he had filled out reams of paperwork and was recognized as the temporary custodian of Rachel & Benjamin. He sprung them from the hospital's ER where they had been treated for minor lacerations and bruises. Both had marks from their seatbelts. Ben had a big goose-egg on the side of his forehead that was already turning colors. Rachel's left arm was scratched from knuckle to shoulder and she'd had glass removed from her chin and jawline. Seven stitches total: two on her chin, two for her cheek, and three at her wrist. The babysitter, a young twenty-something, had been disconsolate. The cops were practically no help, and the housekeeper was late. As a result the kids had been fed McDonald's pancakes in Toby's rental car and they were even now snoozing in the backseat while he waited, parked on the street outside his brother's house.

Toby decided to give the housekeeper until one of them woke up and had to go to the bathroom. Then he was breaking in. Alarm system be damned.

And, forty minutes later, Ben won that prize.

"Uncle Toby?" came his lisping voice. Toby thought the sound of it was too sweet for words. The boy had a deep voice, a pronounced lisp, and warring accents-his father's yankee influence and that of his southern upbringing.

"Yeah, buddy?" Toby whispered.

"I need to use the restroom."

"No problem. Join me in my office."

Toby unlocked the doors, rolled down the windows so that he could hear Rachel, and then popped the trunk. Bingo. Tire iron under the carpet. Ben had looked up at him worriedly when he flipped the carpet out of the way. He was frowning by the time his uncle removed his "key" from the trunk.

"What are you doing?!" the second-grader asked.

Toby put his hand on Ben's shoulder. "Trust me son, if you're anything like any of the rest of us you don't want to know." Then Toby decided that there was truth in the statement. The kid was a stick in the mud. He would seriously have issues with what his new guardian was about to do. "Go wait by the car in case Rachel wakes up, okay?"

Toby decided that the only reason the neighbors hadn't called the cops yet was because of his resemblance to his brother. It was confirmed when he stepped around the house to break a window that wouldn't invite burglary.

"Everything all right, Mr. Ziegler?" a retiree asked as he walked a ridiculous dog in the neighboring backyard.

"We're just locked out," Toby said non-committedly with a nod. He picked a low window with nothing blocking it on either side and lined up his shot.

"Looks like you're about to take care of that," the man chuckled.

Toby nodded tightly and muttered _looks like_ under his breath.

The crash of breaking glass was louder than he'd expected. He cleared the window, ducked inside-a feat he thought was admirable for a man of his age and physique-and jogged through the house to the front door.

"What did you do?" Ben growled as he ducked under Toby's arm, running for the back of the house. The eldest Zeigler didn't bother to answer. Instead he went to retrieve the younger child, carrying her to the couch to finish her nap. Then he set about cleaning up the mess while he waited for the alarm company to respond to the break-in. Added to all the other stress in his head was the thought that he should have gotten the codes from the babysitter before leaving the hospital. Luckily Ben was coming out of the bathroom and answered the phone when it rang.


	4. Chapter 4: CONDITIONS & CONVENIENCES

In D.C. Leo McGarry's phone was ringing in the deluxe hotel suite where he'd taken up residence since his wife had asked for a divorce. Sometimes being an entrepreneur was a headache. At others-like when you needed an apartment-it was a blessing.

"Leo, what am I going to do with these children today?" Shannon asked with no preliminary.

"Bring 'em in," Leo replied in his offhand manner. She was interrupting his morning crossword.

"To the White House?" Shannon asked in a disbelieving tone. "That's great. It's almost hard to believe that you're a major voice in counsel to the president, not to mention the other posts you've influenced over the years."

"What else are you going to do with them today? Bring 'em in. We'll help take care of them so you can get your work done and get 'em the hell out of there."

"Leo-" she whined.

"Forget it, kid. I'm not ordering staff to take care of them. You can resign or you can roll with the punches."

"That's unfair. I called as family, not a staffer."

"Well, you're both. So take the solution I offered and get your ass to the office."

"It reeks of favoritism and special privileges."

"You can take it up with your Commander in Chief when you get there."

"Oh, shit, Leo! He can't know!"  
"He already does. He thought about it last night and we got credentials issued for all four kids." There was laughter in the man's voice. Leo could almost hear Shannon's frown over the phone. "Joseph and Rebecca and Toby's Rachel and Benjamin. We'll get their pictures made when they get here. Think about the show-and-tell potential."

"Kids don't belong in the White House."

"Kids visit the White House every day."

"This is a messed up administration, you know that?"

"You only think that because you're not a democrat."

She hung up on him, leaving him chuckling softly as he finished his word game and coffee.

Toby chuckled, too, as he listened to Ben's voice getting louder as he came down the hall.

"This is Benjamin Russell Ziegler, ma'am. Would you like our password?"

"No, ma'am, my father's out of town right now."

"No, everything's okay. It's not a real breach. My uncle's taking care of us and he thought that breaking a window was a great solution when he couldn't get in."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure. Would you like to talk to him?"

The answer must have been yes since the little boy held out the phone.

"She probably thinks you're an idiot, so try not to look any dumber, okay?" the seven-year-old warned.

Toby pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding his face from the child. He loved listening to him speak-it was a beautiful thing to hear a child so young with such maturity of tone and such command of the language. In actuality, though, it was the lisp that delighted him. R's were replaced with W sounds and the ending W sound of the letter O was exaggerated as well.

"This is Toby Ziegler," he stated into the phone.

Ben heard him sigh, then saw him dig through his pocket for his little notebook. Ben had decided at the hospital that he was going to get one of those. Uncle Toby had been able to whip it out and write things down-he wouldn't have to try to remember important things.

"No, ma'am, I don't know the password." Toby told the switchboard operator from the alarm company.

"Do you want me to tell you?" Ben whispered.

Toby shook his head and answered the boy in a stage whisper. "No. I think she wants to make sure that I'm not a homicidal maniac bent on kidnapping you and selling you to gypsies." Ben rolled his eyes as Toby spoke again to the woman on the other end of the line. "If you'll contact officers Mark Davis and Clifford Shaw of the local PD and a Marilyn Cordell of Children's Services they'll be able to explain the situation further. And I apologize for not having gotten the attending physicians' names at the hospital, but there will be records at County General for the children for last night as well. Do you want me to hold while you check?"

There was a brief pause and then she asked for Toby's social security number.

He gave it, adding, "I work for the White House. You probably want to go through the switchboard to confirm that for yourself, but I can call my boss and ask him to take the call if that makes looking me up a little easier."

"Okay. You have a great day as well...Yes, ma'am, I will. Thank you."

Toby pushed the power button on the phone and handed it back to his waiting nephew.

"Well?" Ben demanded.

"I don't think I'm going to jail, but the day's young yet."

Ben just looked at him as he sat on the carpet.

"Ben, I have a confession. I don't have children. I only see your cousins a few times a year. I don't know what I'm doing. And I'm mad at your dad right now. So maybe you could cut me some slack."

Ben held out his hand. "I don't like most kids. I never see any cousins. And I hate my father. So, deal."

Toby nodded solemnly, then shook the hand.

"It's cold in Washington, but it might get warmer again, so let's go see what you need," he said, pushing himself up. He felt old and wondered what the hell he was going to do.

The only suitcases Toby could find were Italian leather. He felt ridiculous packing them full of little clothes, so he went in search of more suitable containers. In the laundry room he hit pay dirt.

"Fill 'er up," he told Ben, dropping two of the laundry baskets in the doorway to the boy's room. "One for toys, one for clothes. He tapped the bookshelf that was neatly stacked with bins with his foot. "Just leave this stuff as it is. You don't have to repack any of it."

"We're taking my whole shelf?" Ben asked in disbelief. He looked out the window at the sedan parked on the street.

"I'll go rent a U-Haul."

"What kind of clothes do I need?"

"Start with underwear and socks and shoes. Take all of that stuff. Then do your favorite shirts and sweaters and stuff." He slid the closet door open and peeked in. "No uniforms, unless you really like them."

"You got it."

"I need to make a phone call, then I'll come back and help you."

"If we take everything..." Ben stopped. Toby could see him gearing himself up. "If we're packing our things...we're going home with you?" Toby nodded. "With everything important?" Toby stood a little taller. He had thirty-some-odd years on the kid, but he needed to steel himself as well. The decision had been made in his heart, he wasn't sure exactly when, but he had yet to articulate it. Ben continued speaking. "Forever we're going home with you? As in, we'll belong to you?"

"I can't make any promises, but I'm gonna damn sure try. I have a lousy job for traditional family roles, but at least I'm on the same planet. So for now it's just for now. But you can bet your ass that I'm gonna make a bid for it. For you guys."

Ben nodded and turned away. He looked out the window and then nodded again.

There were tears in his eyes when he turned back around.

"Okay," he whispered.

Toby nodded as well, echoing the sentiment in a soft voice.

"What's it called? What will people call it?" Ben asked.

Toby shrugged. "Like a legal term?" He thought for a fraction of a second. "Most...I guess it's...most would refer to it as suing your dad for custody. Are you okay with that?"

Emphatic nodding.

Ben was smiling as Toby left the room. It was the first real, open, happy smile Toby'd seen since he'd arrived.

Leo's cell rang as he met the president wandering the halls.

"Who is it?" his old friend asked. Leo, who had been going to ignore the call, checked.

"It's Toby, sir," he said.

"Oh, good!" the president exclaimed, truly pleased. "Let me talk to him!" Leo handed over the phone, shuddering inside for the unexpecting communications director. "Toby! It's Jed Bartlett. What's going on there?"

"Um...well, sir..."

"The children are all right?" There was concern in the president's voice.

"Oh, yes, sir! They're a little banged up, but they're fine. They ate well."

"That's always a good sign!" He announced to the hallway, "No one was hurt. They're all fine," then he spoke into the phone again. "I'm so glad to hear that."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

There was a moment of silence. Toby broke it.

"Was there something you needed to speak to me about?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know, Toby, you called me. What do you want to talk about?" Now that he knew the news was good the president saw nothing wrong with having a little fun with the serious man.

"I'm sorry, sir?" Toby began, unsure of his footing. Luckily Leo was looking out for him on the other side.

"Give me that!" the chief of staff said, jerking his phone out of his old friend's hand.

"Pretty cheeky for a guy surrounded by armed secret service agents," the president teased. "I'm going to have one of them shoot you for treating me that way!"

"I've got it, Toby," Leo said, ignoring Bartlett.

"Yeah. Leo, I think I need a lawyer."

"Well you called the right place, my friend," Leo chuckled.

In the background the president was mocking him. "You can't ignore me forever, Leo. I'm not going away."

Toby was no fun. He was all business as usual. "I need one who deals with this sort of thing. The president told Shannon last night that Sam knew a lawyer-"

"Harrison, Carrollson, and Hainesboro," Leo provided.

"Okay. I think I need to speak with someone today. I might be kidnapping and I just wanted to cover all my bases."

"No problem. Call me if you need to get bailed out. I'll get Sam to email that number to you. But you need to talk to him, too. He needs to run a few things by you. I wasn't going to let him call until a little later."

"Okay. I'll call him as soon as we get off."

"I want to talk to him again," Bartlett said, reaching for the phone. Leo slapped his hand away, inspiring more theatrics. "How dare you strike the hand of the President of the United States? You fiend! Fiend, I say!" The president gestured wildly in the hallway. "Somebody needs to shoot this man!"

"Boy, he's really firing on all cylinders today, isn't he?" Toby noted.

"You have no idea."

The president cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the phone. "WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK, TOBY?"

"I'll probably head out later today-maybe lunchtime. I should be there late tonight; I could come in tomorrow morning."

"With little kids?" Leo snorted.

"What is it?" Bartlett asked.

Leo couldn't resist. "Toby thinks he can pack little kids in a car in south Florida after lunch and get to D.C. tonight!" Both men laughed.

"Wish him luck with that for me, will you? I'm late. I have to get back to my office before Mrs. Landingham gets here and thinks I've escaped. And tell him to let the kids...never mind-tell him to check his email. I'll have Charlie send him a list of suggestions."

"You get that Toby?"

"I got it, Leo. Thank you _very_ much."

"Any time I can help..." Leo's voice was very much amused. "Seriously, let me know if I can do anything else. And don't worry about childcare. We'll lump yours in with Shae's."

"Wow. She's already got that covered?" Toby was impressed.

"Talk to you later," Leo said before he flipped his phone closed and got down to business. He was having a great day


	5. Chapter 5: TRUTH WORKS

Toby's next call was to Sam. He-Toby-had an appointment with a ranking representative of the commerce department. Sam was uncomfortable with the idea of taking the meeting for Toby.

"Farm it out," Toby told him.

"To who? Everybody's..."

"What's Shannon got right now?"

"Her hands full?" Sam suggested.

"I know she's dealing with a lot, but it'll only take a few minutes and she already appreciates the situation."

"Toby, she really...I hate to be the one to ask her to take on more. She'd juggling some of the stuff Josh sloughed because yours was more important and..."

"Just ask her. The worst she can say is that she'd rather not. If that happens get Ginger to call and tell them that I had a family emergency and was called out of town. She can apologize and reschedule."

"Well, that's a simple solution," Sam chirped.

"When in doubt, the truth'll work almost every time," Toby quipped.

"You know, you sound almost chipper," his deputy told him.

"I feel pretty good. Scared to death and completely exhausted. Plus mad like you wouldn't believe, but other than that I really do feel great." Toby himself sounded surprised. "Did Leo tell you what was going on?"

"A little bit, then Shannon told us a little more this morning. It's a great day to pry information out of her-she's a little scattered and doesn't realize what she's saying. I've never seen her talk so much. And she's probably had a couple pots worth of coffee already. She's like a [mental case/worker bee] on speed."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm missing that." Sarcasm.

Sam laughed. "Okay, buddy. You take care. I'm sending you that number now."

When Shannon had arrived an hour and a half earlier that morning the west wing was just coming to life. She felt like an interloper arriving with the baby in her carrier, Joseph with his bag of goodies, plus a diaper bag and quilt. It wasn't exactly bring-your-daughter-to-work day. The late arrival, followed by a later supper and less-than-smooth bedtime made her doubt her ability to juggle parenting with anything else. She was definitely going to kill her brother. In fact, each time Rebecca had cried-which coincided with being put down-the murder plan had become clearer in her mind. And she didn't care whose idea it was, bringing the kids in to work with her was a bad one-an unfair imposition on professionals and a terrible precedent to set.

Rebecca had finally settled down-probably out of sheer exhaustion. Joseph was a trooper. Not six hours after he'd fallen asleep here he was, ready to face the new day and any challenges it held cheerfully armed with his crayons and toy binoculars. The porters had been forewarned and were friendly and helpful. The security guards had coochy-cooed and patted and offered extra arms. The cleaning personnel had smiled indulgently. It was all a little much for Shannon first thing in the morning. She preferred the silence of a run and then the solemnity of the pre-day white house.

The baby book found at the airport the night before had actually been a treasure trove. When Rebecca had been unable to slip into slumber she'd managed to read a goodly portion of it, paying special attention to the milestones reached at this age. She hadn't been able to calm the child into sleep but she'd noticed that Rebecca seemed fascinated by the reflection of her glass-beaded lampshade dancing on the ceiling. Necessity being the mother of invention, Shannon had found several items in her possession that could stand in for the lampshade at the office. These now hung from a clothes hanger hanging from a length of ribbon hanging from a paper clip wedged into the ceiling. It was during the wedging process that Josh walked in.

Josh was alternately one of Shannon's very favorite or very least favorite people. His father had been shot down with her father, cementing a life-long friendship that included Leo, who was the only remaining member of the three musketeers, her father having been killed in action when she was eleven and Josh's suffering a massive heart attack only a few years previously. Leo had taken her in when she'd been orphaned. And he'd taken Josh under his wing even before Greg Lyman had died. Upshot: Josh was as much family as coworker.

There had been some glib remark about her escaping parenting already on the tip of his tongue when he stepped into her office. It had died a quick death. Joseph, whom he'd never met before, had been laying out crayons in a precise order on the edge of her desk.

"No," he said firmly.

Shannon, startled, had turned to look at him.

Then he noticed the carrier, complete with baby girl, sitting beside her desk.

"No!" he said again, panic making his pitch change. Stress always made his voice higher. It was pretty high now for somebody who'd been shuffling along in happy-ville five seconds before.

"Shannon-what the hell were you thinking?!" He ran his hands through his hair.

"Leo made me do it," she told him with a pout, stepping down from her finished chore. "I wanted him to make one of his maids watch them."

"Well, yeah! Or you have a couple of maids, too, right?" Shannon's mother's family moved in the same circles as their boss. Her inheritance, watched over by the McGarry fortune investor, made it possible for her not to worry about money. Even if she lived to be about six hundred according to Leo's latest conference with her.

"No. The staff at the hotel doesn't work for me. It's kind of subcontracted through the apartment lease."

"You couldn't, like, find somebody on the street?!"

"Nice, Josh."

Joseph looked up from his crayons and winked at them, then slammed his fist down, launching the first as a missile directed at Josh. Quick with his reflexes, the Deputy Chief of Staff to the President of the United States of America got hit in the head with "sky blue." He would have thrown it back if Shannon hadn't taken it away from him.

"Go to your room." she said firmly to the man, pointing. Then she leveled her gaze at the little boy. "There will be no launching of any objects designed to harass or humiliate federal employees on government property. Do. You. Under. Stand. Me."

Joseph nodded, Josh sputtered, and Shannon ignored them both as she ventured out in search of caffeine. As she fled the over-populated office she heard Joe start in on Josh. "I know you. I've seen you on TV. You're really pale. Are you allergic to the sun or are you an albino? Do you wear make-up when you do talk shows? Did Mary Marsh kick your ass? 'Cause my dad said that she was gonna kick your ass. You're not supposed to hold a grudge. Do you still hate her? I thought you looked real good on that thing with the guy with the beard. He didn't make you yell or scream. Do you still have a bullet hole? My dad said there's no way that bullet shouldn't have killed you. He said that if there was a God in heaven that they would try again. Did you know that Aunt Shannon's not a democrat OR a republican? I just don't see how you can't be one or the other..."

Leo headed down the hall to the epicenter of his Deputy's team. The secretary pool outside Josh's & Shannon's offices was abuzz with feminine laughter. Rounding the corner he saw why. It was his experience that a well-dressed charmer could disrupt any workplace. The White House was no different. The women were gathered around the heir of his very own godson, who was keeping them in stitches with commentary on things big and small.

Leo leaned against a doorway and watched for a moment. When Joseph stopped his running dialogue for a sip of 7-up Leo straightened and entered the room.

"Don't believe anything he says. His father's a republican," the chief of staff told the assistants gathered around.

Joseph jumped around, then launched himself into the grandfatherly man's arms. "Leo! I love you! I love you! I love you!" the little boy shouted. Leo clung to him, swinging the small body back and forth. He got to see the child only rarely as his relationship with his godson-who had been grown and on his own when Carson Guyse was killed-could be described as rocky at best. Jenny had been best able to keep the relationship going; she knew how and when to bite her tongue.

Joseph scattered sweet kisses over Leo's face, much to the further amusement of Donna, Megan, and the others gathered around.

Josh had heard the commotion and stepped to his office door. He laughed as well, then pulled out his cell to snatch a couple of shots for future bribery. Caddy-corner to his doorway, Shannon pulled the phone cord across her office to see what was going on now. She was more frustrated than amused. She was running on no sleep, stressed out, and getting nothing done. Plus she kept catching herself babbling. It was probably contagious-close proximity to the six-year-old must have made his speech patterns rub off on her.

Leo looked around. He caught Shannon's disapproving look and smiled. Putting Joe back on the floor he whispered to the little boy, "Show me your sister. I haven't seen her yet."

Joe was delighted to. He took the older man's hand and started to lead him away.

"The rest of you get back to work. We're trying to run a government here!" Leo called to the room at large.

In Shannon's office Leo crouched beside the baby, who was lying on her back on a quilted blanket.

Shannon had brought some jewelry with her and had suspended it from a clothes hanger over the baby.

"That kid's probably the only kid in the world with a diamond mobile," Josh commented from the doorway. Shannon raised her middle finger in salute to his take on the situation.

Joseph set the hanger in motion, causing the diamonds to reflect the light from the open window. Josh was probably right. Leo had personally bought one of the pieces hanging above the child-a commissioned piece he'd had made for the girls when they graduated. Stephen's daughter opened her mouth in that wide, toothless grin of all infants. Josh came in and bent over her, gently scooping her up as Leo sat back on the couch behind him. Josh placed the baby carefully in Leo's arms. The taciturn scot felt a tear roll down his cheek as he cuddled the baby close.

"We used to get together and plan things out," he told Josh. Shannon had finished her call and came to kneel in front of them. "Your parents and yours and Jenny and I," he explained, nodding first to Josh and then to Shae. "It was supposed to be Joanie and Stephen and either of you girls and Josh." He wiped his cheek and then grinned his lopsided grin. "Can't tell you kids a damn thing. You all had to do your own thing."

"It comes from being raised in the presence of great men and their amazing women," Shannon told him.

"Get outta here," Leo protested, pleased.

"We really do have to go," Josh said. "We're supposed to be in with Kurth and Jones and the rest of the lunatics right now."

Leo nodded. "So go," he said, bobbing his head at the doorway. "I'll have you know that I've changed a few diapers in my life."

"Yeah, right," Josh said.

Leo kicked out at his ankle. "Some of them were yours!" he called as the son of one of his oldest friends fled the room. He looked at Shannon, who hovered uncertainly. Now he spoke kindly. "I know more about raising babies than you do. And I have at my command the entire staff of the west wing. Go to your meeting. Do great things. Be an amazing example for this one to follow," he told her. She smiled and left him to his baby worship.


	6. Chapter 7: NOCTURNAL MOVEMENTS

Toby collapsed, exhausted, on Shannon's couch. His feet still dangling in the floor, his head nowhere near a pillow, he fell asleep mid-sentence. Shannon came over from where she was stowing milk in the fridge and checked his pulse. So long as he wasn't dead she was okay with it. Any more surprises in her life, though, and that was it. She was committing herself.

Rosalita came out of the back bedroom with the little boys dressed in towels. She hustled them into the middle bedroom to get dressed and then came to tell Shannon all about their day. The woman was a Godsend. She was the second best thing that had ever happened to Shannon, second best because the children were going down in that place of honor as being the very best thing. Despite the cost in frayed nerves and the years they were draining from her life.

Shannon put her finger up to her lips and pointed to the couch.

"May I put you in a cab instead of having Mr. Ziegler drop you at home?"

For the past two weeks Toby had picked up the Hispanic matron on his way to Shannon's apartment, leaving the keys to Shae's car in her hands for the day, then he & Shae rode to work together. Rosalita delighted in his vintage sports car as well as the gigantic SUV she took during the day, loading the children in and zipping them all over the city for museum trips and other excursions. He usually took her home as well-after having collected Rachel & Ben from the apartment. Rosalita, having discovered that working for the president often meant 10 and 12 hour days-if not longer-had developed her own routine for dealing with the unpredictability. Rachel got her bath first, then got tucked into Shannon's bed. She could literally be picked up and dropped without waking up, but she was a pill if she didn't get enough rest. So that one was in bed by 8:00 p.m. The boys needed less sleep-God bless their sweet hearts, as she was fond of adding. If they were in bed at 8:00 they'd be up at four a.m. No good. So they got to stay up a bit later. And, after Joseph had discovered the gigantic jacuzzi tub in the master bath they'd gotten to "swim" in it a couple of times. This had obviously been the case tonight, with them giggling softly as they tiptoed past the sleeping girls. Regardless of when each child was put to bed, and Ben sometimes got tucked in on one of the couches for the first part of the night, they were always fed together at six-thirty, and were almost always in pajamas by the time their adults got home. The Ziegler children also came back in their pajamas, armed with clean "street clothes" to change into at a decent hour.

Rebecca, as with most infants, had an ever-evolving sleep pattern. One of Shannon's first purchases-made on that first Saturday afternoon she'd had the children when Gerald had taken her shopping-had been a deluxe monitoring system with two displays and up to four transmitters, two with sound only and two with video as well as sound. Toby & Shannon had been able to see the baby sound asleep in her crib on the kitchen screen as soon as they'd walked in the front door.

Now Rosalita giggled, putting her finger up in imitation of Shannon. "But, Miss McGarry," this affectation taken from Gerald, with whom she'd become good friends as well. There was no talking to some people. "What about the children?"

Shannon smiled. "Ben can bunk with Joseph. They'll think it's hysterical. Rachel's good where she is. I have some work to do, so she can have the bed for now. If Mr. Ziegler wakes up he can take her home with him then. If not we'll work it out. They still have extra clothes here?" she asked.

Rosalita nodded. The woman also had a set of keys to Toby's place so that the Ziegler children could get to anything they needed or had a hankering for.

"You are a kind woman, Miss McGarry."

"Guyse," Shannon corrected automatically, "and I'm not. Simply practical and practically exhausted." She winked at Rosalita. Then she reached over the arm of the couch to pull Toby's feet up. Rosalita came behind her when she moved to put a pillow beneath his head and pulled off his shoes, placing them neatly beneath the end table. Shannon handed her the other end of a throw and the two women gently laid it over the sleeping man. When Shannon looked up Ben and Joseph were shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway that led down the hall from the big open living area, mouths covered with little hands to smother their laughter.

"Shhh!" Shannon warned, exaggerating the accompanying motion, then tiptoeing very precisely over to the giggle-pots. Ben still had his moments-and, for that matter, Joe did, too-but he was like a different child from the one she'd first met. "Here's the deal," she confided. "I need you guys to be in charge. No parties, no strippers, no booze. Listen for Rach and Rebecca and keep it quiet until I get back."

Their eyes got huge. "YOU'RE GOING TO LEAVE US ALONE?!" Joe whispered in his "little yell" voice. The kid had a flair for the dramatic.

Shannon rolled her eyes. "Noooo! I'm just going to walk Mrs. Rosalita downstairs and put her in a cab!"

Joe raised his eyebrows at his co-conspirator. Ben did the talking this time. "So what do we get if everybody's still asleep when you get back?"

They'd forgotten that they were negotiating with a professional. "You get to live." Shannon shrugged. "If everybody's up..." she slowly drew her hand across her throat. It sent the boys, gripping their own throats with both hands, into peals of laughter. They ran down the hall and ducked into Joe's room.

Ben stuck his head back out. "We'll be quiet," he whispered. Joseph's arm joined his best friend's head, bouncing a thumb's up at her.

Shannon laughed and then turned to help Rosalita into her coat.

It was three a.m. when Toby stirred. And that was only because his alarm clock wasn't where it was supposed to be. Not only that, it was making some God-awful shrieking noise instead of the low hum of every other morning. Then reality kicked in and he realized that the sound he was hearing was a baby crying. That-plus the fact that he was pretty sure he was still wearing his tie-made it certain that this was a nightmare. He opened his eyes.

From the glow of some light over his shoulder he made out a coffee table and a couch and a wall of windows covered with sheer material. His nightmare was in Shannon Guyse's apartment. He swung his legs off the couch and looked over his shoulder. Yup, there it was, the screaming mi-mi. Rebecca was voicing her disgust at the world in the only way she knew how-loudly.

Toby stood to see if he could help. Shae had the three-month-old over one shoulder while she tried to open a new can of formula. She didn't hear him until he reached over her to take the baby. She was so tired-or maybe her nerves were just so shot-that she didn't even jump at the appearance of arms from behind her in the middle of the night. She just made a bottle and stuck it in the baby's mouth where she was cradled in Toby's arms.

When Shannon reached to take Rebecca back from him Toby just shook his head. "I've got her," he said. It was the same voice he used every day, for things like announcing that it was time for a meeting or to give out assignments or any other thing. But it sounded strange to Shannon to hear it in her kitchen in the middle of the night. Forget the fact that she was wearing boxers and a camisole and he was in a rumpled suit and tie and sock feet. That alone was enough to make a woman feel out of sorts. Throw in a tall, dark-eyed, all-business man cuddling and cooing to a red-cheeked tyrant making smacking noises around her bottle and weak knees were to be expected. Right?

Shannon busied herself measuring the concentrated formula into other bottles and marking them so that Rosalita would know how much water to add. Then she wiped the countertops a few extra times. Then she looked around for something else to do.

"The kids are all asleep?" Toby asked her, his voice soft and soothing.

"Yeah. Rachel's sleeping with me. The kid's a bed hog. And I've got a big bed."

"Tell me about it. You should see her when she crawls in with me. I end up on the floor." He moved Rebecca, now halfway through the bottle, to his shoulder for a burp, just as Rosalita had taught them. "Ben in with Joe?"

Shannon nodded.

"Does Rosalita have my car?"

Now she shook her head. "I put her in a cab."

"Okay. Sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay. It was worth it. You sleep like Rachel. The boys played video games after we figured out you weren't waking up easily." She thought about the fact that he hadn't eaten dinner at the office-that she'd made pasta for herself, plus the snack-aholic boys, after she'd gotten home. "Are you hungry?"

He frowned. "I don't even know. I feel like I'm coming off a three day drunk." He shifted the baby again so that she could finish her bottle in peace. Luckily the littlest member of the household trusted that after the big people quit pounding on her back she was going to get more food, so she never cried during this interruption. She'd just look annoyed at the rest of the world over the back of whoever was holding her until her body cooperated with their larger plan, then go back to eating. The kid was a trooper. It was too bad she felt the need to scream until she got the bottle in the first place. But her trust only went so far. It was definitely of the "show me" variety.

"Welcome to the world of nocturnal feedings. Wanna cookie?"

He laughed silently, then nodded. He sat down in one of the chairs at Shannon's new round table. Rosalita didn't like the formal dining set at the other end of the great room, so Shannon had asked Gerald to take her to the warehouse to see if there was something she liked a couple of Sundays ago. Gerald's guys had brought back this one. It was actually patio furniture, with an ultra-durable glass-like top, a wide, hammered-metal rim, sturdy legs, and four matching chairs. It was perfect for the nanny and her three mobile charges. And Shannon thought that it was charming, tucked into the corner with the new highchair pulled up as well. The steel-grey metal and caramel-colored glass top blended with the apartment-a mix of modern and whimsy that suited Shannon. Rosalita had already sewn coffee-colored suede seat cushions for each of the chairs, then she'd added backs and additional small pillows in jewel tones and neutrals that matched those of Shannon's canisters and other accents. It pleased both women that the result was pleasing to each. It seemed to cement the [blossoming] relationship that their tastes were compatible.

Reaching into the biggest of those canisters, a royal blue monstrosity that she had found in college, Shannon pulled out two cookies, a coconut macaroon and a chocolate with white chocolate chips. God bless Rosalita. She held them up for him to choose. In true man style he nodded. She put them both on a napkin for him while fighting a yawn.

"Are you sleeping on my couch tonight or going home?" she asked him.

"I honestly hadn't gotten that far. I'm just concentrating on functioning moment to moment." His voice was all Toby-completely dry and unemotional unless riled. She laughed out loud at him.

Toby closed his eyes and stretched out his legs, leaning back in the chair. "Can you imagine doing this when you're twenty?"

"You mean, like, before you have a job that demands eighty hours a week and while you're still young enough to stay up all night?"

He made a face at her without opening his eyes. "I think it would be worse. You'd still be finding yourself and you'd have this little person to be responsible for, too. You wouldn't understand prioritizing and you wouldn't be as patient and you wouldn't be able to laugh off the things that don't matter. You're more grounded now-better able to handle everything."

"Oh, yeah. That's us-grounded. That's why you collapsed on my couch without telling me what Carrollson said about David and slept through a couple of kids taking over most of the solar system and the midnight version of feeding time at Rebecca Lane." Sarcasm was Shannon's favorite mode of self-defense.

"Exactly-if you were twenty you'd resent my ability to shirk responsibility and take a nap. Now you see the humor in it."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

Rebecca stopped sucking and went lax. Toby sat the bottle on the table and looked down at her. "There you go," he whispered. "Peace is restored."

Despite herself Shannon smiled. She stood and reached down for the baby just as he stood. They ended up very close together. For a long moment they just breathed, inhaling the scent of baby, formula, and those essences that they recognized as each other. Shannon's eyes stayed on his face even as he looked down at her. When the baby's breath caught in a sigh she snapped back.

"Just leave Rach where she is and lock the door behind you if you leave," she told him.

He nodded as he handed over the baby. "Good night," he whispered to the woman in front of him. Later, in the car on his way to spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in his own bed, he would swear that his reaction to her was just a lack of sleep-that hers wasn't a reaction or cognizant emotion at all. It was simply a barely functioning new-mother wading through a middle of the night feeding and trying to be gracious to an uninvited guest. He told himself that, but when he closed his eyes he could see the curve of shoulder where the strap of her camisole left it bare. And he could see those long, long legs crossed as she sat at the table. And, worse, he could smell her soap or shampoo. It was something creamy and feminine and soothing. He'd never noticed it before.


	7. Chapter 8: CHARISMATICS

"Shannon!"

Toby's voice rang out with something close to anger. Unfortunately Ginger was the one standing in front of him when he bellowed. Unbelievably, Shannon had been on her way to Sam's office when it happened. She couldn't escape. And she wasn't even real sure what she'd done. She'd only been in the office for an hour-maybe not even that long!

He caught sight of her and waited, his face completely closed off, until she was in his office. Then he stiffly moved to the door and slammed it. The blinds jumped. The assistants outside jumped. And of course Shannon jumped. Back at his desk Toby tapped his fingers against the blue folder she'd brought back from the elementary school with her.

"Is it possible..." he paused, twitching a bit. "Is it possible...only possible, I say...is it possible that you considered enrolling my children in this school?"

"Toby, we talked about it...you said that you were good with Luke's if that's where I was putting Joe. Mallory and I went there. My dad and Leo both have plaques and endowments there. It's a good school!"

"What is on the front of this folder?" he asked, flipping it up.

"Help me, Toby. I don't understand."

First he dropped the folder back to the desktop. Then he toyed with his beard, his earlobe, and the placement of his tie and his jacket. Finally he cocked his head to the side. The whole time he had his lips pressed together. It looked very much like be might be biting the inside of his lips.

"It's a great school, Toby. Great scores, low ratios, amazing community and parent involvement. We talked about this."

"Is this the information from 'Luke's'?" he asked, again tapping the folder. She nodded. He flipped it open. "The same Luke's that you've just been talking about?" She nodded again. "Saint Luke's Charismatic Evangelist Academy?" She nodded once more, a bit more slowly. He exploded. "YOU ENROLLED MY NIECE AND NEPHEW-MY _JEWISH_ NEICE AND NEPHEW-IN SOME CRACK POT CHRISTIAN SCHOOL?!"

"Toby!" She jumped up. "First of all, _we talked about this_. It's not like I went behind your back. I didn't realize you didn't realize that it was a parochial school. Secondly, I don't see why it matters what kind of school it is so long as they have competent, caring people putting out children with the skills and confidence to deal with higher education."

"We're not charismatics-"

"No kidding. Neither am I. None of us. And we're not evangelical, either." She shrugged.

Toby was definitely at least gritting his teeth. Even as he spoke. It was spooky. Everybody who was watching from the assistant patch thought so, too. "Shannon, there's a big fucking cross on the front of the folder and on every piece of information inside. I think it's just a little too much, from a PR standpoint, that even the bullet points are marked with crosses. What the hell are JEWISH kids supposed to do there?!"

She jutted her chin and dove in. "Read the bullet points, Toby. They don't try to convert people. They don't have religion classes for the elementary grades. They just reserve the right to point out that lying is against the commandments and to have the kids draw pictures of Moses and Noah and the disciples." She pulled the folder to her, dug through it to find the information she wanted, and then slammed it down on his desk. "Even once they're old enough for the doctrine classes they're not required. Parental approval is required for all electives. They're not going to convert Rachel and Ben. They just want them to know enough to ask intelligent questions."

"Bullshit. What about all these weekly services?"

"They have to go; they do not have to participate. They can choose to sit quietly and respectfully in the back of the room or they can choose to participate in only those parts of the service they're comfortable with."

"Exactly, Shannon. Do you know what happens to kids who sit out voluntary prayer in schools?"

"Toby, I promise you it's not that big a deal. The principal even encouraged me to have you and your rabbi come to a couple of them so that you can help Rachel and Ben understand what's okay and what's not." She sat back down, throwing up her hands. Her voice was weary when she spoke. It was soft and tired and a little sad-maybe disappointed. "Honestly, you want to make this a much bigger deal than it has to be. Even Joseph is going to have to make some adjustments. And for real, Toby, we face as much confusion and public ridicule as you. So shove it. You don't want to send your half there, that's fine. But I really and truly do not think that it's a good decision. This is a school where they'll start every day with silent prayer and the pledge, then the whole school works on memorizing a psalm or a proverb each week. They'll ask the blessing before they eat lunch. What part of that offends your God? They'll be asked to offer prayer when it's their turn at the end of the day, and for the little ones it's what they're thankful for. Well dear Lord, there goes the neighborhood."

Toby moved his jaw sideways and flipped a couple of the pamphlets. He, too, calmed his voice. "I was, perhaps, hasty when I confronted you. I apologize."

"I didn't sign them up. I brought the forms for you. I registered Joseph and I can take your stuff in with me if you decide to go this route. Talk to some of the other people around here and see where they send their kids. I don't mind helping you out with that part."

"Okay," he said, his tone conciliatory. He sank into his chair. She regarded him without speaking for a moment. He propped his chin on one hand and looked back at her. Finally she rose.

"I would never have signed Rachel and Ben up for something without your approval. And I would never have considered recommending that you put them somewhere where they'd be ridiculed or made to feel uncomfortable or inferior."

He sighed, then tapped his finger against his mouth before he spoke. "I know that. And I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

She nodded and then left, popping into Sam's office as was her original intent. As she left she peeked around the doorjamb. Toby wasn't in his office, but the folder had been rearranged. She smiled to herself and headed off to put out other fires.

Toby happened to be the first one in the oval office that evening for the close-of-day senior staff meeting. President Bartlett greeted him warmly and asked how things were going.

"May I ask you something, sir?" Toby replied.

"Of course, Toby." He sat in one of the striped arm chairs and gestured for Toby to do the same.

"Have you ever heard of St. Luke's?"

The president was thoughtful. "The Catholic church or the Evangelical?"

"Evangelical. The school actually."

"Ah-ha!" the president laughed. "From what I can tell it's like a liberal arts college for grade-schoolers. Leo's girls went there, didn't they?"

"Yes, sir. Shannon plans to put Joseph there. She thinks Ben and Rachel will fit in there as well."

"And you don't think so?"

"Well, they're pretty Jewish, Mr. President."

"The school's reputation is that of acceptance and excellence."

"They're still not Jewish."

"Are there a whole lot of Jewish primary schools in the D.C. area?"

Toby laughed. "No, sir. It's just that when she suggested a private school I thought-"

"Toby, there may not be a large _Jewish_ population in the capital, but I do know for a fact that there are a great number of Catholics, as well as several Catholic schools. If Shannon is choosing to put Joseph in St. Luke's instead of any of them it must have something to recommend it."

Toby looked uncomfortable.

"Why do you have to put the kids in the same school?"

Toby shrugged. "We don't have to...it's just that we've been sharing the responsibility..." he paused. "To be honest, she's taken the lion's share of the responsibility. I'm hesitant to make more work for Rosalita. It seems ungrateful not to do it Shannon's way. But it feels disloyal to put them in a Christian school."

Josh walked in. Seeing the men leaning close to each other in earnest conversation he halted suddenly.

"Do you want me to wait out here?" he offered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Toby shook his head. "Actually you can weigh in. What do you think about Jewish kids going to Christian parochial schools?"

Josh shrugged.

"Are you worried about them not wanting to be Jewish anymore, Toby?" Bartlett asked.

Josh shook his head. "Toby, Joanie and I went to public schools. And they weren't the kind with voluntary prayer. And we went to temple every time the doors were open, for worship and for class and everything. And do you know what her favorite piano piece was? Ave Maria."

"What Josh is telling you is that you can't build a Jewish bubble around your kids any more than I could build a Catholic bubble around mine. Actually, both religions are endangered-we have to fight to keep them pure. Something else is always going to look more fun for our young people. So we sacrifice one of our old-fashioned, conservative ways to keep the peace. And maybe we keep some of our children, and maybe we lose some of them."

Josh disagreed. "I don't know. Shannon's father put her in some hippie, tree-hugging, fall-on-your-knees-and-sing-to-Jesus-school and she's still pretty damn Catholic, right?" Josh looked at the president for affirmation and then back at Toby when the older man nodded.

The conversation was interrupted when CJ and Sam came in together, followed shortly by Shannon herself and lastly Leo.


	8. Chapter 9: SEASONAL COMMITTMENTS

Several days before Christmas Eve Toby and Shae heard Joseph's voice register on the baby monitor.

"How come you haven't written a letter to Santa?"

"I don't think I'm allowed. I'm Jewish. I don't think we believe in Santa. We don't believe in Jesus."

"Well, I'm Catholic. And I can tell you, the one doesn't have a thing to do with the other. You can trust me-Santa doesn't care what you are."

"You're an entire year younger than me. How do you know that God won't stop Santa?"

"Look, God's fair, right? Well, Santa's bringing presents for me and Rosie. You think your God's gonna make Santa leave your stockings empty? Brother, I'd stop being Jewish if your God is that mean."

"My God's not mean!"

"I know it. I was just sayin'-look, do you believe that song about us all being God's children?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"The way I figure it is we're getting a second chance. We got two people who love us now. So even if Santa doesn't bring presents Toby and Shae will. We're good to go."

"Hmm."

"Okay?"

"Okay"

A thumping sound came over the speakers, then the sound of sock-feet on the floor, then the rustling of bed sheets.

"Tell you what, if you get worried about it again you can come sleep with me. Maybe some of the Catholic will rub off and Jesus will be confused and leave you whatever Jesus leaves you at Christmas, too."

There was more rustling, then footsteps, then rustling again.

"I'll sleep with you tonight, then you can sleep with me tomorrow. Hanukah's starting and that's too much fun for you to miss."

Toby looked down at Shannon. There were tears in her eyes and a stupid grin played across her face. "I don't even know where to begin," she told him.

Deadpan he replied, "A couple of trips to Sunday School can't hurt. What does Jesus bring at Christmastime anyway?" as he stole some of the cookie dough.

"Jesus _is_ the gift at Christmas. And I thought your family did a tree and stuff."

"My sister does. We didn't have one growing up. I guess David didn't go in for it. I'd like to say it was because he honors tradition, but I don't think that's it." He reached for the wine rack above the sink and selected a red. Without asking if she wanted any he poured two glasses.

Shannon scooped the last of the dough onto a cookie sheet. He didn't realize anything was wrong until she pressed both palms to the countertop and sighed brokenly.

"Shae?" he asked. She shook her head at him, then swiped at her cheek.

He lifted his hand to her chin, turning her face to his. She was miserable. Pale, with circles under eyes that had been laughing moments ago.

"What the hell are we doing?" she asked. "These kids-their lives have been so messed up already! How can we keep jerking them around like this?"

"Shannon, we're doing the best we can. Nobody signed up for this. Nobody asked for this. And I agree with Joseph and I agree with Leo."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"It's probably for the best in the long run. Joseph and Rebecca can learn to be happy and fulfilled and loved with you, no matter what decision comes down from the court about Ben and Rach."

"I'm thinking about resigning."

He was shocked. "Why?!"

She simply threw out her hands to take in the kitchen.

"I think you're tired and you're overreacting." He took her arm, and both wineglasses, and led her to the couch. There he filled them up again. She drained most of hers before speaking again.

"Do you have any idea what Ben's spelling words are this week? Or if he has a Math test? Or what kind of cake he wants for his birthday? Rebecca's rolling over and sitting up and I haven't seen it yet. The session's starting soon, and we both know what that's like-how unpredictable our days are. You've got another confirmation. And they'll be gearing up for the election any day now. How do people raise kids in that kind of nightmare?!"

"Shannon, we've got less than three years left in the White House. It's the most important thing any of us has ever done. There might not be an opportunity to do this again."

"It might not be the most important thing to me anymore. These kids have already lived with people who put their careers first. How is this fair to them?"

"Have you talked to Leo?"

She shook her head.

"Okay. I think you need to."

"The White House ate his marriage."

Toby sighed. "I think that it's the wrong time of year to make major changes. I think that as time progresses and routines are established this will become a lot easier. And I think that you've got a dream come true in Rosalita. Talk to her, too."

Shannon pouted. Toby filled both the glasses again.

"Do you realize how long it's been since I was good and drunk?" he asked, staring at the rich red in his glass. Shannon laughed. "No, seriously. Even at that thing last week, even at the Congressional party, I drank, but not that much."

"The kids are having a good effect on you," Shannon laughed up at him.

"I hope like hell I get to keep them. Just firming that decision up will be a major event. Then something permanent can be worked out. We can't keep living like gypsies."

Shannon looked up at him. As he drank his eyes stayed on hers over the rim of his glass.

"I don't mind having you here. I think Ben and Rachel make life better for Joe. I don't know if it's easier on Rosalita, but it seems easier for me when they're all together." She shrugged. "I didn't mean to wig on you. I just feel like things are slipping through my fingers-here and at the office."

"They don't have spelling words this week," Toby said quietly. He breathed deeply, putting his glass on the table behind the couch and stretching his arm out.

"What?" The alcohol was having the desired mellowing effect on her.

"The kids are out of school this week. No spelling words, no Math tests, no memory verse for two more weeks."

"Oh, shit," she laughed, letting her head fall back.

They watched the lights on her tree twinkle for a moment in silence.

"When does Hanukah start?" she asked.

"Day after tomorrow. I'll need to light the menorah with my kids."

"Can I pick one out?" She turned her head toward him and he looked down at her. "Your kids have been doing the Advent wreath with Rosalita. May we do whatever you do with you?"

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Are you angry? I just found out at bath time. They weren't keeping it a secret-it just didn't seem wrong to any of them. They don't have it at school because it's a Catholic thing-Rosalita told them that not everyone does it. They thought it was a Spanish thing."

Toby made a face. "You're going to let me keep one of our Jewish traditions with your Catholic kids?" She nodded. "And we're both keeping a pagan tradition with the tree and presents." Now she made the face. "And you're going to do three kings day like you do every year?" She nodded again. He was thoughtful. "I'll keep my pissed to myself."

Shannon's smile spread, but it did so in incredulity. "Toby! You cannot blame me!" She smacked his chest lightly with a fist. He trapped her arm and then, as naturally as could be, lowered his face to hers and kissed her. It was soft and gentle and sweet. His mouth worked over hers and sent ripples of low heat coursing down her nerve endings. She responded by angling her mouth under his, drawing him deeper.

After a moment he pulled back slightly. She sucked in a ragged breath and looked up at him from under her thick lashes. He worked his jaw from side to side, then covered the hand still holding her wine glass with his. Placing the other underneath it he gently pulled it out of her grasp and, turning, placed it beside his own. And then lowered his lips to hers again, his hands on the back of the couch and his knee. Hers weren't touching him, either.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked just before his mouth took hers. She nodded uncertainly, unconvincingly.

"That's not good enough," he smiled, brushing her upper lip with his lower one. She inhaled sharply.

"Yes," she breathed, moving closer to him.

He kissed her for a long time, smoothing his hands over her back and shoulders and arms and hair. She responded in kind. Finally, fed up with the lack of access sitting next to her on the couch allowed, he moved to lay her back. Now their legs tangled, hers moving restlessly as he lay beside her. She made a small sound in her throat and clutched at his shirt as he deepened the kiss again, taking complete domination over her mouth.

She was happy to give it up. Those who knew her best knew that she'd long been a huge fan of Toby's writing, as well as harboring a bit of a crush on him. Most thought that had worked itself out over their years of working together. Not so much, though. Whether it was the wine or her mood or the phase of the moon, she was in absolutely the right frame of mind to give in to her baser instincts as far as he was concerned.

Greed consumed them as layers of clothing hit the floor. It was probably inevitable, given their circumstances, that they should end up together. They were both under huge amounts of stress at the office and recent events had robbed each of their normal vices for blowing off steam. This was to say nothing of the new pressure their family members had introduced. Adjustments had had to be made at breakneck pace and several criteria for nervous breakdowns had been met. All this before the chemistry that had always simmered between them was taken into account. They had been friends, comrades, for years. They were the kind of coworkers who could turn to each other and share all of life's highs and lows and in betweens. It was a relationship cemented by years of trading favors back and forth and suffering together and celebrating together and travelling together and working long hours together. Neither was now giving thought to reasons, though. The other simply felt too good as each let down the guards that had kept this from happening nearly a decade before.

It wasn't until the crisp texture of Toby's beard and then his warm, wet mouth cruised over the curve of Shannon's breast that she thought to question what they were doing.

"Oh, God, Toby, we have to stop…"

He paused, pulling back from her slightly, watching her carefully.

Shannon, breathing hard, moved to close the gap between them. She rested her brow against his and let her hands soothe the suddenly tense muscles in his neck. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't think…"

"It's okay, Shae," he murmured.

"It's just…Rachel" she asked, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Now he was confused. She watched him narrow his eyes, then work his jaw back and forth.

"What?"

"Seriously?"

Toby leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. He looked off into space before looking at Shannon again. She hadn't moved. She was still perched as she'd been when she'd sat up like a scalded cat.

"What the hell does Rach have to do with this? And is there a significance about tomorrow night?" he finally asked.

Shannon goggled at him. "Toby." Her voice was flat. Not a good sign. "We are not having sex in the same bed as your niece."

Toby laughed. It wasn't a cheerful, happy laugh. It was more his why-am-I-being-punished laugh. He reached out and drew Shannon's hand into his, bending to press a kiss to her palm.

"I didn't mean to-"

Toby shook his head at her apology and drew her down toward his chest. His breathing was still just as ragged as hers. His heart still beat just as fast.

"I…um…" she began again.

"Shannon," he whispered. "Rachel sleeps like the dead. She won't hear a thing."

He pressed a quick kiss to her temple, then the corner of her jaw.

Shannon arched into the embrace as his mouth trailed over her heated flesh again.

"If it's just Rachel hearing that worries you, put that one to rest. If it's something else-"

She shook her head before he could finish.

"I haven't just necked since I was in school," the woman laughed.

Toby snickered. "I'm hoping to talk you into more than just necking right here, right now."

Her gasp had a chuckle building again.

"On the couch?!"

He smiled sardonically at her. "Have you never made love on a couch before?" he asked.

She pulled back enough to frown ferociously t him. "I have a perfectly good bedroom just down the hall there," she reminded him.

Now he was grinning full out. "Seriously? Oh, baby, we have to broaden your horizons," he told her, shifting so that his weight bore her down to the cushions.

"I didn't know adults really did this on couches," she whispered when he brought his face back up to hers. "I figured that was just for Prime Time audiences."

His full-bodied laugh rang out. "Couches have a lot to recommend them," he promised. He shook his head and sighed, then carefully palmed her cheek, bringing her gaze to his. The smile was there, but softer now. "Are you okay with this?" he asked.

She swallowed hard before nodding. Her heart was in her eyes if he but looked. His heart soared when she laughed before moving her hands up to draw his head down.

Cookies and spelling had been long since forgotten when he reached up to pull the crocheted throw down over them.

"Are you okay?"

Shannon murmured softly and stretched against him, snuggling closer. "Mm-hmmm."

Toby let his hand trail through her hair, undoing the tangles his lovemaking had put there.

"You were absolutely right about the couch."

A sardonic eyebrow crept up. "The couch?" he asked.

"Yup," she quipped, slipping an arm around his waist to anchor herself to him. "Couches show great results."

"Are you sure it's the couch?"

"The theory may need some field testing, but I'm confident in the results."

"Sweetheart," he said, his lips lifting in a half-smile. "If you like the couch you're going to love the floor," he quipped, wrapping one arm around her before reaching out to brace himself, then rolling them both onto the rug-covered hardwood. Shannon ended up sprawled beneath the weight of his body again.

"Floor, huh? You know you're like forty years old, right?"

"Concentrate," he growled against her neck as he moved against her once more."

After their gasps slowed and their heart rates returned to normal Toby pulled down a couple of pillows to go with the previously liberated afghan. Snuggling close he wondered at the feelings building in his chest as they spoke of mundane things. Certainly he'd needed the hulling-out of good, mindless sex. And no one would question the younger woman's generosity or responsiveness as a lover. So while a goodly portion of him was fully relaxed and rejuvenated, something new and worrisome preyed at the back of his consciousness.

"Do you have to go in tomorrow?"

"I have a thing about four o'clock. It shouldn't take long," Shannon told him. "Rosa's off tomorrow."

"I was thinking about driving up to my old temple, taking the kids."

"I think that's a sweet idea." She bit her lip, considering. "My car would be more comfortable with all of them."

"If you're really not going to be long we could time it so that we all ride in with you, then we can leave directly from the White House. If you want to go."

She nodded. "I'd love to. We can make a day of it—take them to the park after lunch to run around before they get cooped up. The weather's not supposed to be terrible tomorrow." Toby snorted at that ringing endorsement.

"What do you think about taking the kids to breakfast. Then maybe to a couple of stores afterward."

They were several hours into the next day before they dozed. The sky was starting to silver and lighten when Toby pulled Shannon into her amazing master bath, adding fresh clothes of his own to the thick, plush towel behind the door. The money she'd spent on the luxurious jets was worth every penny, he decided, as they took advantage of the steam and the water pressure and their newfound fascination with each other. He was pontificating on the new budget guidelines—on which they disagreed—when a small voice brought him to a quick halt.

"Uncle Toby?" Rachel asked as she knocked on the door, then peeked in.

Shannon was glad the frosted glass and steam hid as much as it did.

"Uh. Yeah, Rach?"

"What are you doing?"

Fairly obvious answer. Not all that appropriate for the milk-n-cookies set.

"Ummm. Taking a shower?"

"Is Shae in there with you?" she asked.

Toby met the woman's eyes. There was laughter and there was I-told-you-so. His hands had stilled guiltily underneath the miles and miles and pounds and pounds of hair he'd just rinsed free of perfumed suds.

"Yeah, Little One," he said softly.

Shannon's eyes shot daggers at him. "Uncle Toby was washing my hair," she quickly added. "Since my arms get tired."

Toby laughed silently at the quick excuse. He shook his head and grinned.

Rachel, as someone who didn't wash her own hair, and whose mother had been gone for years, she thought this was perfectly reasonable.

"Can I have a cookie?" she asked.

"Sure, sweetheart," Toby agreed. "You can have a cookie. Then how bout laying back down until the boys get up, okay?"

If the kid didn't get enough sleep she because a snarling demon in a doll's body. Serious personality meltdown.

"Can I camp out and watch cartoons?" she asked. "I can be quiet!"

Shannon saw Toby's internal war. Selfish desire to snuggle up with Shannon on a real bed and crash for a couple hours vs. having the girl do the same. The hell of it was, she'd probably crap out anyway. And almost definitely fall asleep in the car in traffic that afternoon.

"Yeah, okay, kid. Go for it."

"Yippee!" came the little voice, still thick with sleep.

"Yippee," whispered the man as he pressed a kiss to his lover's damp neck.


	9. Chapter 10: HEBREWS & HE-SAID-SHE-SAID

The next morning the kids were thrilled to wake up to find both Toby and Shannon still home. Shannon had told Rosalita the night before that she'd be home until well after lunch. Now the older ones heard plans of an outing followed by a road trip. The prospect of having two days of Toby's undivided attention thrilled them to the extent of making Shannon a little jealous. At least Rosie Redcheeks, as they had fondly dubbed Rebecca, still liked her best, she consoled herself.

Breakfast out turned into brunch as the children munched their way through getting dressed. They settled on a diner-style restaurant downtown and hit a department store first, taking note of what made the children whoop and laugh and stare the longest. A pile of gifts already lay wrapped in a closet at Shannon's godmother's (formerly Leo & Jenny's, now it was solely Jenny's) house, but, hey, it was a big tree, right? Toby was in good spirits when he opened the door to the hash shop for them. It was fifties-style, with big, wrap-around booths and a juke box and tinsel draped everywhere. The red-cheeked kids piled in and started shedding gloves and coats and hats donned to combat the weather. Shannon unzipped the casual coat she'd appropriated from Toby a few weeks earlier when she'd decided it was easier to wear the baby in the carrier than hauling around all the other crap and _then_ that it was easier to put one jacket over both of them than it was to wrestle the poor child in and out of clothes everywhere they went. Toby's jacket had been grabbed out of expediency one morning and she'd informed him quite seriously that he was never getting it back.

It looked better on her anyway.

He helped her shrug it off, then arranged the table so that she could slip in without jostling the sleeping baby too much. He did indulge in a quick peek at the angel sleeping with her head resting on Shannon's chest. His smile was open and easy when he met her eyes. It softened and he indulged himself once more, just a little more. He kissed her gently and quietly before returning his attention to the monsters chattering away where they'd been trapped in the horseshoe of the table. They were debating the questionable nutritional value of ordering pancakes to go with a cheeseburger when he heard someone speaking to him.

"Toby Zeigler!" came a soft voice, one that had seen many years. He turned and recognized one of the newest Republicans in Washington. The elderly man had just joined ranks with the other members of the House of Representatives. He quickly stood.

"Congressman Earley. Good morning!"

"I'm glad to see you out this morning," the man told him. "I'd decided you were a Godless son-of-a-bitch, but watching you with your children, maybe I was hasty in my assessment."

Shannon smiled, then tried to hide it with her menu. Her shoulders shook as she held in her mirth. Toby'd been bedeviled when he'd returned from his meeting with the man earlier in the week. He'd promised to make life hell for Toby if he didn't get some help in his district. His list of wants was long. Toby's patience was short. So was the meeting.

"Yes, sir. I think you've met White House Senior Counsel to the President Shannon Guyse." Toby puffed himself up a little as he gestured to her. She lowered the menu and beamed at the older man.

"Don't get up, dear," he told her as he gently took her hand. James Earley nodded at the sleeping baby. Then he turned back to Toby. "I was charmed the first time I met her. Thought she was a good girl. Now I see her with you I think she might be a saint. Who else you got here?"

Toby gritted his teeth and went round the table, beginning with Rebecca.

"We call her Rosie Redcheeks!" Joseph interrupted.

"Do you now?" the crotchety old man shot back.

"Yup. Cause she'd got red cheeks. Especially when she sleeps, but all the time, too!"

"Well, that sounds like a good enough reason," the New Yorker told the little boy with the southern drawl.

"This...um...this is Rachel," Rachel, like a good girl, held out her hand. Earley bend over the table to kiss it. Toby ducked behind the man's back and rolled his eyes at Shannon. Rachel giggled. "And you and Joseph seem to be kindred spirits," he gestured to the boy in the middle. "And this is my Ben," he finish, indicating the oldest child.

"Benjamin," the little boy corrected.

"Of course. I always ignore what he says anyway," Earley confided. He reached out to shake Ben's hand. Joe thought this was a great idea, but was a little shorter. He solved the problem by kneeling on the bench and leaning across the table to shake the Congressman's hand.

"It was nice to meet you, sir," Joe told him politely.

"It _was_ nice to see you again, Congressman," Shannon added.

Toby simply stood, a tight smile on his face, slapping his gloves in his palm and wishing the Congressman would move on. Instead the elderly junior statesman beckoned over another man.

"Abraham, you're going to love this. Remember the guy I was telling you about? The one who made me so mad last week?" Toby's expression when he looked at Shannon was one of annoyance and exasperation. She smiled sweetly. "Lookit, this is his Benjamin, Joseph, Rachel, and Rebecca-"

"What lovely Hebrew names!" the other man interrupted.

"I know!" Earley exclaimed. "Go figure!" He turned to Toby. "You have a beautiful family, Mr. Ziegler. Enjoy your meal."

With that they were gone.

Toby sat down. Ben started laughing first. "Can it, Benjamin," Toby ordered.

Joseph threw himself back against the bench, whooping away. "He called you a bad word!"

They made it all the way through dessert before Shannon started yawning. Rosie Redcheeks woke up as they were finishing-a clear sign to Shannon that they should re-evaluate their plans. Then they hit another store. While the children were examining the claw machine-something they loved to do wherever one could be found-Shannon confronted Toby, who was gathering outerwear into a manageable bundle.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked him.

He smiled and shook his head. He reached out to cup her pale cheek. "But you are."

"Yes! I was worried about you driving to Delaware for services tonight."

"I'm fine." Rebecca had been turned around in her carrier so that she could watch the world go by and he chucked her under her drooly little chin. "I'm great, actually." He dumped the coats into one of the store shopping carts and then moved behind her to rub her shoulders.

"O-ka-ay. Well, then, let me throw this at you. I want to go home. I'm tired."

"Okay." He leaned forward to kiss her temple, then, glancing at the short people paying them no attention, kissed her more lingeringly when she turned to look at him.

"You're okay with that?"

"You've had a long week and then I kept you up all night last night. Of course I'm okay with it. You want me to postpone going upstate?"

She shook her head. "No. Go ahead."

"I don't want you to worry."

"No. The kids are looking forward to it. But let's make this the last store for me, okay?"

He rested his chin on her hair as she leaned backwards against him.

"I'll drive you home now if you want."

She shook her head.

"Then let me put you in a cab."

"After this store," she insisted.

"You two look like a postcard for a spa," CJ's voice came from their left. She was leaving the store with big shopping bags.

"Toby's holding me up," Shannon told her.

"Yeah, well, you look like death."

"Thank you, CJ."

"You're going to be there at the five o'clock briefing?" the press secretary asked the other woman.

"Yeah. I'm going home to take a nap. I have Cork at four and then I'll play devil's advocate for you."

"Okay. I'll see you later, then." The tall, slender, looker stopped by the noisy machine to speak to the children. She furthered their conviction that Aunt Claudia was the best by digging out more quarters for them. She waved back at Toby and Shannon before skipping out of the store. She was going to hit Josh first. Because she was pretty damn sure she'd seen something other than babysittin' going on and he'd be able to get it out of Shae.

After she left with the baby it became open season on Uncle Toby. After giving in to candy and whistles and slushes he decided they'd benefit from a little window shopping before being cooped up in the car for the drive. And along the way they picked up some last minute gifts-a silk scarf for Ginger and a pair of earrings for Bonnie plus a pair of gloves to go with the gifts they'd already gotten for Rosalita. Shannon called him to relay a message Sam had left on the house machine. When he got off the phone with her he found Joseph looking up at him.

"Did you get anything for her?" he asked. Toby raised his eyebrows. "For Shannon."

Now the older man made a face. He'd been unable to pick out anything for her so far.

"I'll know it when I find it," he told Shannon's nephew.

The boy put both hands on top of his head and screamed at the top of his lungs, right there on the street, "You haven't found anything yet?! Are you _LOOKING?!_"

Toby looked around at the passers-by, then shushed the boy in front of him. They would hit paydirt in another two blocks. A jewelry store window revealed an antique locket that was going to be the piece de resistance come Christmas morning. The kids had already picked out perfume, a red cashmere turtleneck, and, right out of the window of an ancient second-hand store, a faded denim jacket embroidered with a treasure map. These gifts had been in Toby's apartment for weeks now. Now Toby also chose a new laptop case from Rebecca and they had Shannon's name monogrammed on it, along with a Celtic knot. He felt sure the baby would approve. And so, with their treasures stored safely in the back of the truck, they headed north.

CJ had been busy since her early lunch/shopping fix. She'd hit Josh first, because that was her plan. Luck was with her. Both Donna and Sam were with him.

"Hey, guys," she began beguilingly. They knew by her evil smile and her softly begging tone that they were in for a treat, CJ Cregg style. "So...I ran into Toby and Shannon while I was out. They had the kids with them."

"Yeah?" Sam asked. He'd already left the message on the machine, so he wasn't shocked to find out that they hadn't been home. And he knew Toby had planned not to come in unless there was an bona fide emergency.

"When I saw them the three older kids were playing those games in the front of the store and Toby and Shannon were kind of watching them."

Both men raised their eyebrows, lost as to where she was going.

"Kind of?" Donna asked.

"Do you think something's going on between them?" CJ asked the room at large.

Josh was the first to deny it. He laughed as he said, "No, way! They're just dealing with this whole kid thing and kids at Christmas thing. Don't read any more into it than there is!"

Sam joined him. His tone was a bit more thoughtful. "I agree. I think everything's just really temporary right now. Toby doesn't even know if he'll get custody from his brother. They're waiting until he gets back to take the next step. And Shannon has to deal with the idea that the mother might show up at any time. I'm not surprised they're kind of leaning on each other."

"Well, that's the thing. See, they were kind of leaning on each other." She moved to stand behind Donna, freaking the other woman out a little to judge by the expression on her face. "He was behind her and she had the baby's hands and was kind of bouncing her, but Toby was rubbing his hands on her shoulders and arms and I think he might have kissed her." She demonstrated the massage but not the other gesture of affection.

"No, way..." drawled Joshua.

"Hmmm," Sam threw in.

"Okay, tell me you're kidding," Donna exclaimed.

"I'm really not. I really think something's going on. And here's the plan." She pointed to Josh, every inch the general issuing orders. "You work on Shae. Donna, you take on the assistants and see if they've noticed anything. I'll chip away at Toby." She smiled evilly at Sam. "You can help."

Josh immediately objected to playing out the Spanish inquisition with his godsister. He'd been burned checking out boyfriends before. She didn't like it. Vocally didn't like it. Physically didn't like it. Made life very uncomfortable for him didn't like it. "I'm not going to ask her-"

"Yes, you are, sparky. Sam and I are putting life and limb on the line tackling Toby. You can at least-"

"Wait a second!" Sam interrupted. "Why does this matter to us right now? I'd be way more worried about her lack of sleep than the fact that she's sleeping with someone."

"Okay, well, sometimes the two are actually connected," Donna told him. "I just don't think she'd sleep with someone like Toby." She looked at Josh. "Would she?"

He raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. "God I hope not." He let it out as he met CJ's eyes. "On the other hand-"

"But he's, like, way older, isn't he?" Donna curled her lip and gave a little shudder.

"She's had a huge crush on him forever," CJ told her.

"On Toby?! Toby Ziegler?"

Josh pulled his lips to the side. "I hate to admit it, but..."

"But it kind of would make sense. It'd be convenient if nothing else," Sam finished.

"Okay, well, I wasn't going to go that direction, but convenient works." He stood. "I'm still not asking her, though. Some things are meant to be kept private."

"And there's no way Toby's telling me. He doesn't share things like that, not with me," Sam said.

Donna was more confident. "Well, I'm all for getting to the bottom of this. I'll ask Ginger and Bonnie and Megan and Luis."

"And Margaret," CJ ordered. "Leo may know about it."

Josh interrupted. "Don't ask Margaret. If Leo doesn't know it'll make him uncomfortable if she says something."

"Yes, sir," Donna chimed, with the accompanying salute. She skipped out of the room to find someone to vent her disbelief on while they continued discussing the situation for a while longer.

"You know, there's something to be said for just leaving this alone," Sam said. "It's really none of our business."

"It's Toby and Shannon. It's totally our business. And even if they weren't our friends we'd still be obligated to find out just for prime agitation. And if _I_ saw them out in public who else might have?"

"You know, I've worn that thing," Josh said, miming to demonstrate the baby carrier. "It gets pretty heavy. He might, in all honesty, just have been rubbing her shoulders because they were sore."


	10. Chapter 11: TANGLED LIGHTS

Rosalita was singing as she gathered her things to load the car on Christmas Eve, as she checked her charges and made sure the appropriate frivolities were laid out in readiness.

"Go," Shannon laughed, buzzing the woman's cheek as she fastened an earring. "Your plane will be leaving and-"

The nanny simply swatted her butt as she would one of her charges-in a loving way that clearly indicated she didn't want any "pert" from them. "I've been getting myself where I need to be on time for fifty years. And you're going to be the one to start telling me what to do?" she asked in her heavily accented English. She adored 'Miss McGarry' and Mr. Zeigler as much as she did their young ones. And she'd have had to be blind-or stupid-not to notice the change of pace in the apartment this last week. She was neither. She'd noticed.

Mallory stepped through the door as the women were laughing companionably at each other. Leo McGarry's girls had done as they always had for Christmas Eve-gotten matching dresses. So when Toby swung out of the bedroom still working on his cufflinks his breath was taken by the double whammy of two beautiful women in scarlet Donna Karens. Both were boned and had corset-like bodices. Shannon's was gentler somehow on her fuller figure, with wide straps and a u-shaped neckline plunging a bit more deeply in the back than the front. Mallory's was strapless, the bustier cut straight across her straighter figure. Both dresses nipped in at shapely waists to flare out in yards of fabric. The deep, cheerful red was matched perfectly in Mallory's full lips and in the drops of rubies and diamonds dangling from Shannon's ears. Mallory's short hair hid whatever wonder of jewelry she'd chosen for the evening-the burnished red curls gleaming as they teased her ears and the nape of her neck. On the other woman long, dark locks had been swept back and intricately knotted to showcase the show-stopping stones. Both girls would don old fashioned hooded capes against the winter cold. As a matter of fact, those capes were draped across the back of the couch where three of the best-dressed children in D.C. were killing evil invaders in some castle game with fairies and dragons and gnomes with automatic weapons.

Rachel's dress was a proper little girl's Christmas party dress. The same silk of the older women's made up the long sleeves and bodice. Red velvet was held out by tiers of flounced underskirts beneath. The requisite white tights and black patent leather Mary James completed her outfit. A cluster of tiny red rosebuds, holly, and evergreen waited to be pinned just below the little girl's shoulder. A more masculine boutonniere of mistletoe and a white rosebud awaited each of the little boys dressed in identical black tuxes. Toby still shuddered at the idea that the boys' tuxes were probably more costly than his own. He hadn't realized when Shannon had made the announcement that she was getting them matching outfits for her mother's annual event that there'd be this kind of need. Then she'd rejected the idea of him paying for his half's duds. Which didn't seem fair to him. He was letting it go for now, though.

Mallory stooped to where the baby waited in her department-store Santa dress-something warm and soft and velvety trimmed in something white and fluffy. Shannon had even found little cloth Mary Janes for the youngest of the group.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Shannon asked the woman who was closer than a sister.

Mallory simply looked over her shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. She chose not to dignify the question with an answer.

"Ignore her," Rosalita told Mal. "She just wants an excuse not to have to go out tonight."

Shannon lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips. "I do not."

"She just doesn't want to go to work first," Joe called without looking, zigging his shoulders as he killed something that looked like tiny hordes of brown bears on the video game. "She wants to go to Jenny's."

"Well, we get to go first," Mallory told him. "And we need to be moving."

And, like a miracle, the oldest three stood up and began storing their toy. No arguments, no requests for five more minutes, nothing. Shannon was going to find the secret for that kind of obedience if it killed her.

They all rode downstairs together. Rosalita walked with Mallory and the kids to where her little VW wagon waited out front. After kissing them all soundly Toby led Shannon to the parking area one level down. In the elevator she sighed. He watched her pretty face, the smooth lines of her cheek and neck disappearing under the warmth of the wrap she'd snugged on over the evening gown.

"Half an hour," he promised her.

She smiled at him. "That's a lie and you know it."

He shrugged and made a face. Then he brought her close to him. "I'll try to make it short at the White House if you try to make it short at the McGarry's."

"No can do, sailor," she told him, wrinkling her nose. "I look forward to this party every year. It's my favorite get-together."

"I thought Thanksgiving was your favorite."

"That was my last favorite. Now it's this. Next up is Easter."

He rolled his eyes. That was one to look forward to. He might even have the state's stamp of approval to claim Rachel and Ben as his by then. Idly he wondered how they would handle _that_ little conflict in religious background as he toyed with one of the curls artfully draped over her shoulder.

As she watched his face paled. His gut had clenched. Realization had dawned that there might not be a team effort by then. If this last hearing went as anticipated he'd have no reason to continue this 'temporary' set-up. He'd need to find something more permanent.

"What?" she asked softly as his gaze continued into some middle ground, as he stared right through her.

Swallowing he shook his head and lifted one side of his mouth in a sad smile. "Just missing life the way it was before it changes again."

She lowered her brows and looked at him quizzically. She looked away before he could see the disappointment in her eyes. Settled in the car she tried to see the bigger picture.

"I know this has been a lot for you. Your life was pretty well organized the way you liked it before, wasn't it?"

She snuck a side-long look at his face and caught him nodding.

"It's a funny old world, isn't it?" he asked. "You think you have everything you want, then something that seems like such a burden comes along and makes you realize what you've been missing."

She tilted her chin toward him. "I admire you taking on Rachel and Ben. Especially when you could have gotten your sister to take them. I know she offered at Thanksgiving."

His head shook. Then he broke out in a grin. "They're mine now. I may have to move to Uruguay or something if the court doesn't come down on my side."

"She thinks you need help."

"I know. I keep putting off what I know I'm going to have to do. And I owe you an apology for that."

"About what?" she laughed incredulously. She didn't know when she'd had more purpose in her life. She loved having Ben and Rachel join her and Joe and Rosie. She loved her alone time with each of them as well, but together they were a hell of a unit, a hell of a team.

"Have you given more thought to what you said the other night?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows in question. There were so many nights when they'd discussed so many things. "I'm not certain I know what you mean."

"Job-wise."

"Oh."

Now his eyebrows lifted. They neared the gated entry to the White House. She shook her head.

"Nothing?"

She shrugged. "You know what I was just thinking, just this minute before you asked that?" She continued without letting him make any of the predictable responses. "That this-phase I guess you would call it-means more to me than anything else I've ever done. I love it. I love curling up with Joseph and letting him read to me or show me pictures in catalogs. I love listening to Ben with his dry wit and that droll way he has of describing everything. I love pampering Rachel. I can't remember what I did before there was a crib in my room. When Rosie's in another room it feels strange not to listen for her. I love this. I wish they were mine. More than anything else, I wish they were mine. I'm not making any major decisions now. I understand what you meant about that. It's too soon for a couple of disparate reasons. For one thing, probably every new parent feels that tug of inadequacy. For another I don't have any real claim to them. My heart's going to break and I don't really want to dwell on that."

He didn't look at her. He didn't say anything. He just reached over and covered her hand with his own and gave her a little squeeze.

She turned it over beneath his and laced her fingers through his, squeezed back. His breath was coming very deeply and deliberately.

"So," she said finally. "I'm with you about Uruguay."

And she hoped that wasn't saying too much. Because the other feelings of fear and uncertainty stemmed from him and what was going on between them. On the one hand she'd wanted him for a long time and wasn't opposed to using whatever she had to keep him. On the other she wanted him to want her because of who she was-not because she was conveniently located and a competent caregiver for the children.

So instead of talking they went inside, had a couple of drinks, and made nice with the president's guests. Then they went to Shannon's godmother's, where the kids were enjoying the company of some of Washington's finest families' youngsters, and really enjoyed themselves.


	11. Chapter 12: DREAMS CHANGE

Christmas Day had worn on in companionable bursts of drunkenness, laughter, and solemnity. The sun was setting red-gold over the skyscape as Shannon looked up at Mallory. Mallory was watching this girl she loved like a sister and the child on her lap with amazement. Shannon was sprawled-along with Rachel-along one of the red couches she brought out of storage for the holiday season and sometimes for July and August. Rachel was sound asleep, her head pillowed on Shannon's upper arm, and Shannon was stroking her bangs to the side of her sweaty forehead. It was quite the domestic scene and it tugged at Mallory's heart. Shannon had always been fascinated by families-the shapes and sizes and idiosyncrasies that laced them together. Mallory wasn't looking forward to the wreck this beloved woman would be when these children found permanent homes.

It was a thought in the minds of their friends that afternoon as she and Toby hosted them on this celebration of the birth of another child so long ago, so far away.

Toby came in carrying two bottles of beer and a glass of wine. The wine he passed to Mallory, one of the beers he handed to Shannon. Then he just sort of folded himself up, sitting on the floor in front of Shannon, his back against the front of the couch. He let his head fall back against the kindergartener's knees and surveyed the mess. It had taken all day to open presents. Joseph was on the balcony with Luis trying to make bubbles the size of the ficus tree. Ben and Leo and Josh were at the round table in the newly dubbed breakfast nook putting together a 3-D dinosaur puzzle. The baby was asleep on her back under the tree. She was sprawled out like a television gunshot victim-little chubby legs and arms clad in Christmas-tree pajamas splayed wide from that little belly. He watched the deep, even rhythms of her breathing. The thought occurred to him that he would know what her breath smelled like, that sweet formula residue mixed with those almondy cookie things babies teethed on. And the thought made him smile and give a silent laugh.

Shannon thumped him in the back of the head with her beer bottle. "What are you laughing at?" she asked him.

"Just enjoying life. And making fun of myself a little bit in my head." He yawned hugely. "And I think I may be jealous of a six-month-old."

"Oh, yeah. Cause you'd look great in pajamas like that."

Mallory laughed into her wineglass.

"Just remember who you're talking to there. I am the man responsible for possibly the very best toast ever given by a president of these United States."

"Better be nice to him if you want him to write your speeches," Mallory warned.

Toby tilted his head to look at Shannon. "Why do you need speeches?"

Shannon shrugged at him and then raised her eyebrows at the other young woman.

"You want him to work for you when you're president, don't you?" she teased.

Shannon's smile changed. It filled her face with secret knowledge, [secret] pleasure. And it got the attention of the men at the table as well.

Josh's reply was amused sarcasm. "You planning on announcing your candidacy soon?"

Mallory half turned to speak to him. "Shannon wants to be the first woman president," she announced, gesturing grandly. "I'm going to be the V.P."

"I'm too young to be president."

Leo looked between his daughter and the one he loved just as much. Both were obviously snockered.

"You have hopes of running the white house?" Toby asked her in his usual flat tone.

Shannon was already arguing her viewpoint for Mallory's benefit when she shook her head at him. "And I changed my mind...not the first woman president. I haven't since I was, like, eleven. That'll be a mess. A total PR show. And you're not invited to be vice prez anymore." Mallory pouted.

Rebecca interrupted by whimpering in her sleep. Her hands were twitching-a sure sign of distress for the baby. Toby scooted over to her, cradling her close to him and murmuring nonsense words of comfort as he resumed his place by the couch.

"How come I can't play with you anymore?" Mallory asked petulantly, even as she smiled drunkenly at Toby's prowess with the young tyrant. Sliding down from her perch on the arm of the couch she stole the baby from him and snuggled up to that sweet warm body herself.

Shannon sighed. "Because we're not ten years old anymore." She drained her beer. "Besides, I have-in the years subsequent to making that pact-realized that you'd be all wrong for that job. Your best friend is supposed to be your chief of staff." She raised her beer bottle in salute to Leo. The older man smiled indulgently at his girls.

"You hire the best man for the job, not the man you like best," he corrected.

Shannon shook her head at him. "That's not what I've heard."

"Then you're listening to the wrong guy. Where are you getting your information?" he asked.

"Firsthand. You and the president make a pretty damn strong argument."

"You're sweet kid, too sweet for politics sometimes."

"I know. It's an old dream." Shannon closed her eyes.

"So you don't want Mallory on your staff anymore?" Josh asked even as Toby whispered, so that just she heard him, "I'd vote for you."

"If I need remind you, I'm an Independent. I couldn't get elected."

Leo found himself intrigued by the idea. "You know, in all reality..."

"Dad, it was just a joke!" Mallory claimed.

Shannon lifted her head to look at Leo. She shook her head gently and shrugged one shoulder. "It's not even a dream anymore." Shannon laughed and shook her head again. Then she lowered herself back down to the couch and resumed brushing her fingers through Rachel's hair. "My dreams changed."

When she looked down the couch she met Toby's eyes on her. She couldn't read his expression, which was something new for them—unusual.


	12. New Dreams

The affair was white coat. The men looked dashing and the women were stunning in their gowns. Shannon could easily imagne herself transported to another era. She could hear a paddle wheel slapping a river while a band played in the upper-deck ballroom. The only thing missing was the scent of magnolias and jasmine and wisteria.

"What are you thinking about?" Toby asked softly in her ear. She'd obviously tuned out the man who'd been speaking to them. There was an amused smile on her face and a faraway look in her eye.

"I'm pretending that we're in 1860 South Carolina or Missouri or Tennessee. You just handed me a glass of champagne and you're taking a mint julep from the bartender for yourself. Then we'll go out to the deck and watch the towns and cities pass by before joining the dancing." She cut her eyes at him and winked wickedly. "And there's not a damn bit of snow or sleet anywhere in the forecast. Only Yankees have to worry about that tonight."

He laughed into his glass at her. "How much have you had to drink this evening?"

A shrug was his answer. "Enough to say what I'm thinking without blushing too much."

His gaze flickered over the white beaded sarong-style dress she wore. He'd never seen her look so pure and yet every curve called to him like a siren. "Wanna know what I'm thinking? Guaranteed to make you blush..."

"Leo! Who is this you've brought us?" she asked brightly. Toby noted that she was already blushing. He swapped the drink to his other hand so that he could shake that of the Senatorial hopeful that Leo introduced. The man was in his forties, eager-looking, with that hunger in his eyes and determination in his stance that made him a sure bet.

"It's good to meet you. I'll look forward to keeping an eye on your race."

"I appreciate it," Tandes nodded. "Any suggestions would be appreciated. You may not remember it, but we've met before. Once. You were running the Senate race for Randall Greed-"

"What a terrible name for a politician," Shannon observed.

Leo nodded and the newcomer continued. "I was with the DA's office then and happened to wander into a room where you all had gathered to pow-wow during a fundraiser. I'll never forget you arguing, loudly, that hiding-and I don't know what you referred to-would come back and bite you on the ass. That the senator should be honest and open and take his knocks for _that_ rather than dance around the truth and get hung with it."

"Sounds familiar," Leo muttered.

Toby ducked his head and shuffled his feet.

"Did he take your advice?" the woman asked him.

All three men shook their heads. "He took questions the next day and the day after. All the challenger had to do was show, over and over, clips of his two widely different answers and denials," Tandes told her.

"So you got to say 'I told you so,' at least," Shannon remarked.

"Not so much. He fired me that night. I never saw him again in person."

"But you got to work on the president's campaign, right, so everything worked out okay," the eager younger man gushed.

Toby snickered. "Yeah. That one worked out okay for me."

"That's how I'm going to run all my campaigns," Tandes promised. "I remember that night. I remember the strain in your voices and the fire in everybody's eyes and I thought, there are good men in politics still. I didn't realize you'd been fired. I figured you quit when they didn't take your advice. I imagined there were more lucrative deals for a man with your convictions. I went home that night and told my wife that I was ready. So, thank you, sir."

Toby's jaw worked side to side before he accepted the hand. "Thank you, sir. And much luck."

When the hopeful nodded and walked off Leo grinned at Toby. "I think he's got a crush on you."

"I think you should drop it," Toby warned.

"I wouldn't doubt that a couple years from now, when _Senator_ Tandes has his first son, he'll name him for you."

"Thank you, Leo, for dropping a subject as requested by one of your subordinates."

"He probably figures that after our president is reelected you'll be free to help him run for it himself. You've probably got a job on the hill so long as that man's alive."

"No, no, I don't mind if you keep on blathering about it-"

"Shut up, Toby," Shannon ordered. "Say thank you and move on."

"Thank you, Leo."

"You're welcome, Toby. _Oh, shit._"

"What?" Shannon asked, looking around.

An older man with a lop-sided tie was rapidly approaching.

"Gotta go," Leo muttered, slipping away.

"Tobias Zieger! Stay right where you are!" The man huffed and puffed up to the couple-Shannon still being there by virtue of Toby's deathgrip on her elbow. "What is wrong with you people that you cannot pass a comprehensive child welfare act?! You know what's wrong with you? You don't have children! You don't know what it's like to sit in a waiting room full of sick, miserable chidlren and their terrified parents so you can't possibly imagine what it's like not to be able to-"

"Actually, Congressman, the Bartlett administration is full of parents. The president himself has been a parent for thirty-some years now-"

"Don't you get on your high horse with me, you smug sonofabitch! I'm talking about you two and Joshua Lyman and-"

"I have four children," he interrupted again.

"What?"

"I have four children. Two boys, two girls. Would you like to see them?" Toby was already reaching for his wallet. He flipped open pictures of his greatly expanded family. The first was a professional portrait of Rebecca. The second was a shot of the boys wrestling on the ground. The third showed Shannon at her desk with Rachel on her lap, obviously laughing as they rocked back and forth in the big leather chair There were more, both candid and studio shots all the way back to a very small Ben snuggling a tiny infant in a white blanket. After letting the man flip through all of them he tucked his wallet back into his jacket and puffed out his chest.

"I think having children is terrifying. I think taking care of them when they're sick or scared or hurt is a parent's worse nightmare. That's why I'll let any bill at all pass that makes it easier for parents to secure healthcare and psychiatric treatment and good educations for their children. Bills allowing for training of personnel so that they know about programs that offer help to parents in need. Bills with incentives for low-income families so that they can buy thier own school supplies and participate in community sports and funding for music and arts for their children at a rate they can afford and government protections so middle class workers don't have to worry about taking off to take their children to the doctor. Bills that have allowances making it easier for families to buy fruits and vegetables and coats and shoes. Any bill at all. Because there's always next time to get them more, but in the right now there are people who don't have anything. People who will be grateful for any sort of help at all."

The Congressman opened his mouth and shut it again. "You have children?" he asked again.

Toby nodded slowly. The implication was there that he and Shannon were married and had created the children in the pictures together. "Benjamin, Joseph, Rachel, and Rebecca. We're trying for number five, but so far no go."

"You're...you're..."

Shannon put her hand low on her abdomen and smiled benignly.

"Wouldn't that be nice to announce next Thanksgiving?"

"Still, the solution is not to let every cockamamie bill get signed just because it makes leather or paper fourteen cents cheaper. That doesn't help the farmers or the ranchers feed _their_ children!"

"I'll support the president's signing any bill that makes it _four _cents cheaper. Then we'll be happy to tack on tax incentives and government grants for cattlemen who show support for the cause. Whether it's scientific research for making cows produce more without harmful additives or solar-panelled milk sheds. Or recycling programs so that notebooks come from the things we're disposing of as waste now. Show some initiative. It's a big government! We're spending money on all sorts of ridiculous things! Show me something I can take to my boss and say-here it is! A new idea! This is how we help the people! Show me a win-win situation and we'll make sure it goes into effect. Until then we keep racking up the smaller victories and we hit our knees every once in a while and thank God that we can provide for our children and ask for His wisdom in feeding and clothing and educating the rest of them."

"Hmph."

Toby sighed into his drink as the older man thumped away on his cane. Suddenly his drink wasn't what he wanted and he set it down in disgust, still watching the Congressman.

Shannon reached out and squeezed Toby's hand. "You did that very well." He shrugged. She turned, studying his set face. "You pray about the children?"

"I pray about a lot of things," he admitted without meeting her eyes.

"You really want another baby?"

"Yes."

"Look at me." He did finally. His lips were pressed together. "You really want another baby?"

"Yeah." His shoulders moved restlessly. "Yes! I was disappointed when you...Yes, I want to have a child with you. One that's half me and half you and we can argue religion later. Or raise it as both. I don't really care. I do care. I want you to convert. But since you and Rosa are continually harping on me coming with you, I don't see it happening. So I don't know-that one's for God Himself to figure out. But, yes! Hell, yes! Yes, I want...I'm trying...I just..."

She reached up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before taking her shoulders.

"I'm really stirred up right now and this isn't the time or the place, so please, please don't look at me like that right now."

"Like what?"

"Maybe it's just me," he sighed.

"Just you what?"

"Who wants to take off all our clothes and find somewhere quiet and relatively horizontal and not come up for a couple of decades! You're standing here in front of me in something gorgeous and revealing and your skin's so soft and your hair's just like I like it-so that I can take it down and run my hands through it-and you smile at me like that and I could very easily lose my mind!"

She grinned at him, then laughed.

"You are an evil, evil woman. This is exactly how Adam felt in the garden."

"You could marry me and it wouldn't feel so wrong."

She hadn't meant to say it. And as soon as she did she turned around, toying with the seam of the barstool behind her.

"Shannon? Shae?"

She lifted one thin, white shoudler.

"Shannon," he hummed, resting his hands on her upper back. He could feel the tension in her neck and the quiver in her spine. His mouth swept down to press against the nape oh her neck where she'd gathered all that dark hair in a chignon. The rest of the world be damned. "_God_, Shannon. I was trying to...I didn't want to..."

"It's okay, Toby. It was a joke. A poor one. Forget it."

"It's what I pray for. And I won't forget it."

She shook her head.

"We won't be able to seek recognition from either faith; they won't understand," he told her.

"I don't want a big white wedding," she told him. "I never have. That was Mallory's dream. I always wanted something small. Simple. Two people and a promise before God."

"Tomorrow's out. How about Monday?"

She laughed and when she did it sounded more like a sob.

"I have a ring picked out," he told her. "I was biding my time. I didn't want to rush things. And then, when we thought you might be pregnant, you didn't mention it at all and I was afraid...so I kept quiet. And then we agreed that you wouldn't go back on the pills and I thought it meant that you didn't want to at all-"

"Shut up, Toby," she told him.

"Make me," he hissed against her skin.

She turned and his arms came loosely around her.

"We're pretty much there already. I vote we take the kids, fly to Barbados or somewhere, and do it someplace fun."

"Have you ever been to a beach?"

"Beaches, sure. Beaches are great. Sand...people...the kids would love it."

"My family would hate it. They'd feel left out. So would everyone here."

Toby shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

"What kind of ring did you think I'd want?"

"Big, flashy, solid. Gold eight-prong setting so you don't lose it. I'd like to have matching wedding bands. I know that's not the thing anymore, I know women get-"

Her fingers came up to his lips. "I want that, too. We'll look at plane reservations and our calendars later tonight, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"Now go away. I don't want to see you again until I'm steadier."

"Not everyday you propse to the best catch in the room, huh?" he asked.

"Shut up."

He grinned. He reclaimed his drink and swirled the remainder of it as she walked away from him.


	13. Careful Balance

"Toby, Shannon has a diamond on her finger that could cause serious damage to the carefully planned balance on Marine One," Bartlett anounced in the oval office when Toby came in the next morning. He and his Junior Deputy Chief of Staff were scheduled to fly out that morning to attend a dedication of a monument somewhere.

"Yes, sir. That she does."

"Was there something you wanted to ask me before taking that step?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Did you plan to leave your wife and make a bid for her yourself?"

"Blessing for the union might be nice. And I have enough clout to make certain that National Cathedral is available should you two be leaning that direction."

"We actually doesn't want that big of an affair," Toby told him.

"Because you two have been living in unwedded sin for these past months?"

Toby's brows lifted. "I think the idea was to get married quietly so that when the baby's born nobody really questions anything."

"What baby?"

"Our baby."

"A new baby? A theoretical baby or one with a due date and all that?"

"It's still Maybe Baby at this point, but...based on the numbers we have available right now, we're looking at around Thanksgiving. Probably. If everything works the way it's supposed to. Neither one of us has ever played these particular odds before, so we could be wrong."

"Toby, I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that babies are a terrible reason to get married."

"Yes, sir. Actually, we're just in the hoping and waiting phase right now. Last night I made a comment and she seemed overly sensitive about it. She went through a couple of highs and lows and I didn't really add it up. Then, when I gave her the ring, she cried and I thought she was just emotional. But then she's queasy this morning, so..." He took a deep breath. "She'll schedule an appointment with the doctor and we'll know more then."

"Well, Mazeltov, young man."

"My thanks, Mr. President."

"She's the best of us."

"That she is."

"She's still going to want a big wedding. Women always do, no matter what they say."

"Well, I'm going to let you argue that one with her. I'll be wherever she tells me whenever she tells me to be there."

"Good choice. Now, go away. We'll do Russia in a little while."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Toby?" Leo caught him as he left the oval. The first rays of the sun were turning the rose garden beyond a pinkish gold.

"Yes, sir?"

Leo simply stalked up to the man and put his arms around his shoulders. Toby accepted the embrace and returned it, thumping the older man's back.

"I'm going to say this...I know you two are adults and have your own plans and ideas and goals, but I'm going to say this: I have watched that girl since she was in diapers. I changed some of those diapers myself. My grandchild is a blessing. Something to celebrate, so you can bet your bootstraps there'll be a big shower coming. I know Shannon's never claimed to want a big ceremony or a big reception. And that's fine. But I claim the priviledge of giving her away, wherever, whenever. And, should she seem so inclined, I claim the priviledge of paying for the wedding and party and whole nine yards. It would be an honor to do so. Now, _that_ said, I know you two have been quietly letting gasps and hints drop all over D.C. and to hell and back. If you want to do this quiet-all of it-I can understand that, too."

"Thank you, Leo."

Leo slapped the man's cheeks. "You've made me very happy today, Toby. Very happy."

He laughed. "Okay, then. You know, if this is your cup of tea, we can get together with Mallory and try a-"

"Don't go there. That's a horrible thing to say to a father. And, since you've got two daughters now with an option at number three, just remember that you're going to be standing right here where I am someday, looking at a young man who's glowing because his daughter loves him. And you remember that every time you address me from now on, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Toby chuckled. He started off down the hallway when Leo's words stopped him.

"By the way, we'll have a quiet celebration in the next couple of weeks. For the engagement. Just the closest family and friends. Some people from here. Get me a list."

"Leo, we don't need-"

"Yes, you do. You will let Jenny and I do this because it's the right thing to do. We can be discreet. You will be obedient and remember what I just said just now, about you in twenty or so years standing where I'm standing. And so remembering, you will bring Shannon around to the idea."

"Yes, Leo."

"Just some friends. It can be a barbeque or something. Light and casual and easy. But something to mark the occassion."

"Okay. Thank you, Leo. I'm just going to-" he gestured over his shoudler, down the hall toward his office. "I need to get back-"

"Go. And be nice to Josh. This might be the end of a fantasy for him."

"So I've heard," Toby muttered as he turned away. It was no secret that the Lyman, Guyse, and McGarry clans had long hoped for a union between two of their offspring. This pretty much killed that hope dead.


	14. Charity & Cattiness

Shannon and Sam squared off against the Republicans lining the opposite side of the conference room table. The meetings had been going poorly with just Toby and Josh in the room. Josh, pleading bigger fish to fry, had ducked out. Shannon, long a favorite of Labor, had been recruited to make peace. Sam, who was just along for the ride and the free drinks, watched that train skid completely off the tracks as the representatives across from them made comment after comment after comment.

When the rhetoric turned to personal net worth they got shut down. Hard.

"You're not going to want to take swings at me because of my income. Trust me...you're going to want to ease slowly away from that sleeping bear," Junior Deputy Chief of Staff Shannon Guyse warned.

The old white men she addressed weren't impressed. "We'll bring you down if you go there," the whip told her.

"You're going to look stupid. But go ahead. Take me on. Take on Leo McGarry. It's no crime to be wealthy in this country."

"It doesn't have to be a crime to paint a picture," came an aide's low voice.

"Anytime you want a look at my checkbook..." Guyse shrugged, gathered her files, and left the room.

With a polite nod and a grim smile Sam, too, took his leave.

"How does that not backfire on us?" he asked as they caught up to the presidential advisor.

"Soft on the working class? I _earned _my money Sam. I took what I got and I've grown it. Let 'em come for me."

"Yeah, but when we're talking about cutting salaries and funding more government help programs-why isn't it expected that certain staffers also evaluate our incomes?"

"Fine. Men go first. You need two tuxes." She halted in the corridor and regarded him seriously. "White House staffers-and even members of Congress, I suppose-are expected to appear a number of places which require certain dress. If for no other reason I'm not suggesting that CJ and Kelly and Megan and Donna volunteer to give up part of their paychecks."

"What about me?"

"You come from private sector. You should have saved for a rainy day. Plus, we're back to you being a guy. You need a total of two tuxedos. Women need a new dress every fourteen seconds around here."

"So why aren't you worried?"

She shrugged.

Later he took it to Toby. "Why isn't she worried?"

Toby shrugged. "She gives to the church. She gives to the poor. She's covered."

"But she owns three hotels and a couple of warehouses and her profit margin is incredible. Her kids go to the most expensive private school in the district..."

"Did you get those numbers from state?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, those numbers don't include the fact that one of those hotels is actually a shelter for underage women experiencing domestic violence at home. She funds a soup kitchen from the back of one of those warehouses. And, along with her own tuition, she pays tuition for four children at two other private schools-schools for kids with special needs-so that they get the care and rehabilitation they need without putting a strain on the parents. And that's what I know about. I don't think we've got anything to worry about on that score. And Leo's the one who taught her that the well-placed charitable donation can greatly behoove a fortune of unthinkable proportions, so I wouldn't lose any sleep over him, either."

"You're right," Sam agreed in relief. "Leo would know how to manipulate his giving so that it best reflected his bottom line."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "Leo is a financial genius. But he raised his kids to do the right thing. And the right thing, if you've got more money than the Rockefellers, is to give some of it back. She doesn't donate so that it looks good or keeps her out of trouble at tax time. She puts out funds because she can. Because it's right."


	15. Cute Shoes

Shannon Guyse slammed both hands on her desk and bellowed.

"Megan!"

The trim, perky assistant many deemed too young and inexperienced for the job popped in almsot instantly. "Yeah?" she drawled in confusion. _What the hell_? was the message...loud and clear.

"There is a picture of Rachel and me on the cover of this news rag."

Megan looked. "Yup." She looked up at her boss. "It's a pretty good picture. So?"

The junior assistant chief of staff ran her tongue over her teeth. "Have you heard anything about this?"

"No. Is it going to be bad?"

Her boss rolled her head on her shoulders. "It could be bad. More annoying than anything else, but it could be bad. Can you tag CJ to talk to me before she goes in there this morning?"

"You got it."

CJ was reading the article herself as Shannon took the magazine to Toby's office.

"What do I care?" he asked when she showed him the article. Two inches of column space. The lead-in a trite remark about shoes making a statement.

"I don't want pictures of the kids in the paper. I don't want their lives analyzed and criticized and stunted."

"Their mother is a famous face around town. Their father is an influential man, Shannon. How were you going to avoid it?"

She shrugged. "I don't want them brought into the political stuff."

"Joseph spouts off all the time. He's a rabble rouser. If Rachel wants to wear ugly shoes she gets the choice. The boys make fun of those shoes and, no offense, but the 'whatever' isn't exactly on the first-grade reading list. I don't think she's going to take a lot of hits about it at school."

"I think you're wrong. And the article isn't about fashion. It's about activism."

"How much of an activist can a six-year-old be?"

"Not her. Me. I'm the one taking the hit for this. They're going after me by using your niece."

Toby narrowed his eyes at her and took the magazine she'd tried to hand him earlier. His expression changed several times-none of them for the better-as he read the brief opinion piece. By the end his lips were clamped together and his breath hissed out.

"Kathy!" he boomed. "Get me CJ right now!"

"I'm right here," the redhead snapped. She cocked her head at Shannon. "Oh, good. Just who I wanted to kill," she began as she slammed the door. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the other woman. "What is the one rule about your mouth?"

Shannon sucked up her pride and averted her eyes. "Only approved policy," she said softly.

"The one rule?!" CJ asked louder.

That snapped some spine back into her friend. "I know, CJ! I know!"

"You are supposed to be on our side!" she whined. "You, when you open your very famous, silver-spoon-fed mouth, are supposed to spout little plattitudes or party rhetoric. You are not supposed to go off on people! You aren't supposed to go off on a tangent and you aren't supposed to get hostile!"

"I know."

"Then what the hell happened?! You can't handle a question about little girl shoes?! What the hell is going on inside you?"

"I know, CJ! I don't know how it got out of control. I had it, then it was slipping away. I was upset, but then things get going and you forget about stuff."

"You forget about stuff?"

"Yeah."

"You forget about stuff?!"

"Yes, CJ. I dropped the ball. I forgot about the comment. I was upset about it when it happened, but it wasn't like I was going to put Rachel in a cab and immediately call you in the middle of shopping. I got over it and I forgot."

"I think we're missing a larger point here," Toby interrupted.

"Which is?"

"Why is the press asking Rachel anything? Why are they hounding our children? This is the fourth piece this month in some second-rate news reel involving a staffer's child. It needs to stop. We're going to start yanking credentials of the employees of these companies if our kids aren't left alone. You and I both know that privacy is a big deal to this president. As is the sanctity of our underaged offspring. Get a handle on it."

"You got it." CJ looked up at Guyse before she opened the door. "The next time a reporter asks you _anything_ you call me. Right. Then."

Shannon nodded once, sharply. Then she looked at Toby.

"This is going to set off the environmental lobby," he said.

"They're not fur! They're not anything special! Everybody wears shoes! Most shoes are made, at least in part, of some sort of leather. Are we going to start coming to work barefoot? In D.C.? In the middle of winter?"

Toby shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll call the school-give them a head's up. That way if anybody gets stupid-"

She nodded and squeezed back when he reached for her hand.

In the briefing room CJ faced down the press corps.

"I have to remind you that this president has set some high standards for the treatment of his children and those of other high-level employees. In light of the recent child-bashing going on by some of your affiliates it should not come as a surprise to you that he's thinking of emptying some seats in the room."

Danny took up the bait. "Is this in response to the picture of Guyse and her stepdaughter-or whatever she is-outside Norstrom's?"

"It is indeed," the attractive woman smiled at him.

"The quote I have is that Shannon Guyse denied that-and I'm quoting here-'anything died so that Rachel can wear cute shoes. No harm, no foul.' Is that statement correct?"

CJ nodded. "That's how I heard it. I think that-"

"CJ!" another reporter interrupted. "The article claims the shoes were made of leather."

The press secretary nodded. "They are, indeed, contructed of leather and man-made materials. No real leopards, no endangered animals, were harmed in the making of the shoes. That, I think, is the point that was being made."

"PETA's position is that it's inhumane."

"Thank you, Cris. I think it's important to bring our friends from the far left in on this."

"Have you seen the article?"

"Yes."

"And the picture?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"What do you want from me? It shows a little girl in a navy blue school uniform with a pair of very trendy baby doll shoes holding her mother's hand as they cross the road! Neither one of them is making obscene gestures or smoking anything or committing any crimes. Neither one of them is doing anything illegal or immoral at all! They're enjoying an afternoon outing together. Something that staffers have damn little time for...and certain fringe elements of the media want to make a big deal about it because the trend right now is animal prints and this little girl picked out a pair of shoes with a leopard print motiff. Do I think the shoes are cute? Yes. Rachel's adorable. She could wear a potato sack and photograph well. I can't imagine how boring it must be to wear a navy jumper and white blouse to school every day. So she found some shoes that make her happy. Which is well within the uniform guideline of the school she attends. Bully for her. And props to her parents for letting her express herself a little bit. Do I think that wearing them advocates cruelty toward animals? I do not. End of story."

Danny took the ball again. "But the president thinks it's a big enough deal to threaten to limit access?"

"If the president had the choice the only time you'd be allowed to publish photos of children would be if the parents submitted them and approved the context of the article. He thinks that life with the White House is hard enough on families without reporters harassing them about what they're wearing. Four thousand pairs of those shoes were sold in the past year. All over the United States. I've had a couple of staffers working for a couple of hours this morning on other incidences where they were deemed newsworthy. So far nothing. This isn't about what shoes a six-year-old puts on her feet in the morning. It's not about the sportsmanship of a senior democrat's middle school softball coach. It's not about raising awareness of foreign car purchases in the House of Representatives. It's about distracting important people by taking potshots at their kids. And it's going to stop." There was a pause. "Any questions about anything else? Fine. I'll see you this afternoon."

Toby waited for her outside the press briefing room.

"That went well."

"Oh, didn't it?" CJ sighed.

"Got a little hostile there."

She cut her eyes at him. "You're one to talk."

"The president has it. I almost had to physically restrain him."

"I'll just bet. Where'd he get it?"

"Leo. He wants to up protection at the school."

"Of course he does. They're both grandfathers and fathers. This is going to get out of hand."

"You hit it on the head in there. That it's about distracting the parents rather than the issues."

"I'd like to hit Shannon. How does she get to the point where she's offending the press? She used to be their darling. Our ace in the hole. What's up?"

Toby shrugged. "She's exhausted. Emotionally."

"I thought she'd get over it when the custody was decided."

"She's afraid they'll change their minds. They can do that. It happens all the time and courts award biological parents their children." He gestured with open arms. "Every time one of the kids hits the papers she's afraid the story will come out or some reporter will set off to find one of the mothers or one of our brothers and we're back to square one. Or that one of their real parents will decide they're cute and presentable and possibly a meal ticket and reclaim them. It sucks, but it's there, all the time, in the back of her mind."

"Well she needs to shake it off."

Toby just looked at the woman. His look said it all.

"I know! I know! I'm sorry! The president's staying out of it?"

Toby nodded.

"You're sure?"

He nodded again, his brows raised.

"Toby?!"

"What? Yes! He's staying out of it!" When she walked off he tapped the folder he carried and mumbled to himself. "I think."


	16. Self Recriminations

"How do you sleep at night?" Mary Marsh spat out as though the words tasted bad on her tongue.

The woman in front of her didn't back down from the venom. Despite the restraining hand laid gently atop her forearm by a colleague she answered.

"Usually snuggled up beside my husband, although occassionally we're joned by one of the four children who count on us to leave them a better world than the one we inherited from the Republicans."

The Reverand Walker scooted forward before the argument could digress any further. "I think we're all agreed that that's what any of us would want...a better world for all the world's children-"

"Her children aren't even Christian," Marsh muttered under her breath.

And loudly enough for the whole room to hear. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. No one said anything while they tried to pick their jaws up off the floor.

"Please tell me," Leo McGarry began in a dangerous voice, "That you are not about to bring innocent children into this conversation."

Walker fumbled for words of apology. Marsh looked the COS dead in the eye and shrugged. "She's the one who married the Jew. It's her fault, not mine, that the children they produce are an abomination before God's eye."

"Really? Because the Bible I read says 'judge not, lest you be judged,' and 'remove the plank in your own eye first,' and any number of things about us being so presumptuous as to assume we know the basis of His judgement."

"They're all going to hell and everyone in this room knows it. They've committed atrocities unknown throughout history and the only reason their kind wasn't stamped out was because the devil protected them."

Shae pursed her lips. "And here I thought it was the same God you worship who brought them out of slavery, who chose to have His son born and raised among them, and who even saved them from further destructions in []."

"Judaism is an antiquitated, rule-bound, ritual-loving faith of non-believers," Marsh pronounced.

"So is Catholicism, but I wouldn't presume to tell you that you can go to hell. That's not really my place, now is it?"

She rose gracefully and spun away. She actually made it all the way down the hall before her chest began to heave and she reversed course. She didn't head for her office nor her husband's. Instead, when Leo McGarry finished explaining to security that Mary Marsh was to be banned from the White House and that Walker Calwell had better choose a bit more carefully who he made friends with, the COS found her sitting on his couch. Waiting for him.

Questions in her eyes. Fears and doubts and self-recriminations warring with the simpler hurt and anger.

He would deal with both.


	17. Gathering Courage

Toby groaned as he lowered himself into bed.

His fiance-an idea he was still getting used to as reality-rolled over, nearing sleep herself, and rubbed his arm as he settled into the silky softness of the fresh, clean sheets.

He was silent-still and restful-for a long moment before his brain suddenly engaged.

"You know what Josh said to me this afternoon?" he asked into the darkness. "It was funny-"

"Funny, ha-ha, or funny, ironic?"

"Funny, unlike Josh." She waited, silent. Toby blinked up at the ceiling. He was exhausted but he hadn't been able to sleep. He knew she was just exhausted. For everything he was feeling and dealing with she was doing double. He appreciated it, appreciated her efforts for the team and on the home front, but sometimes he just wanted her for himself. She spent twenty hours of the day within speaking distance and he missed her because they never had time to talk. Pulling himself back to his point he cleared his throat. "He asked me how many fronts on which I thought we could fight this war."

"Hmph."

Toby rolled so that he was facing her. Her fingertips reached out to caress his weary face.

"Give 'em an ass-kicking," she suggested. His own, personal cheering squad.

"What do you think?"

A shrug was her first response. It wasn't the truth and he knew it. Truth was, she decided, what he really wanted. And probably what he needed to hear. "I think it's time to find out. If we're going down I would rather go down in glorious flames of chest beating and moral outrage and an elevated level of public debate. I hate the idea of skulking in as a loser before any votes get cast. He has MS. So what? Presidents have had disabilities, immoral relationships, scheming spouses and cabinets, and any number of personal foibles. The more progressive we become the more instant the attention and the more intense. Fuck it. Fuck 'em all. He vetos the repeal. Right or wrong he's put his stamp on it. And I think the next thing to do is put him up in front of cameras to answer questions about it. Maybe do another classroom event but with high schoolers or even older middle school students. The man has a Nobel prize in economics. If he says the damn thing's a bad idea it's a bad idea. It's what he does for a living. What we _hired_ him to do. Let's get out of his way on this _one_ thing and let him go all stick-in-the-mud on the American people."

"When we put it to him he had an interesting response," he told her, capturing the fingers that had trailed down to his chest. He pressed kissed to her middle fingers before continuing. "He suggested the problem the ordinary people have with the estate tax-with any tax on extreme wealth-is that they all hope to ring the bell some day. They want to believe they'll be in the position to be effected. And, if they do, then they've worked for it and deserve to keep it. To pass it down."

"So?"

"You honestly don't care that you pay ten times what the people who live down the street do?"

She shook her head. "No. I honestly think it's a priviledge and responsibility. I think of it as paying it forward. Since the first dollar that we earned got slapped in our little hands my dad taught us to save some for a rainy day and put the rest to good use. Build it, grow it, invest it, then you damn well tithe on it. Tithe enthusiastically. So that if at the end of the week you have paid your ten percent and you still have fifty bucks left you put half of it in the basket before you go buy beer."

"Ya'll are messed up," Toby noted.

She settled closer to him, cuddling into his chest. "I don't mind paying for poor kids to get better educations or have better medical coverage. Because of the if factor. What happens if we elevate one kid to a higher standard? If one kid reads an extra book because of it, or applies for a college scholarship because of it, or is still alive to find a cure for cancer because of it. Or if one person is grateful when that check comes in the mail that makes it easier to feed their family. And those children grow up thinking that this is a wonderful country? What if one person smiles at somebody else and that person goes home and smiles at their family and those kids that got smiled at don't end up blowing away their schoolmates in high school? If they get jobs so that they can be the person behind the counter at the pharmacy or the food bank? Or they get a job in high school and give back a little bit because they can remember being in that position? I'm proud to be part of that. Eager to be part of it. If the people of this country get the help they need than they will-collectively-enrich our country for tomorrow. Nothing is more important than a sense of community. And community builds when you're invested in it. I'm paying it forward, Toby. So that one day our children will step up to the plate and give everything in them to make the world a better place for our grandchildren. Sure, I'd like to save enough to send them to good schools to get important degrees so they can get meaningful jobs. But then they're on their own. And I damn well expect for them to earn the hell out of the priviledge of going to these nice schools. I expect them to do something with the values we're teaching them. So that if one of them falls on hard times and needs a little help the government has a means to reach out its hands to its people and hold on tightly until they can stand firm again. That's what the estate tax is for...that's what it does. It's a little insurance policy. Paid for by the ones who can afford it the most."

Toby chuckled. "Putting it that way makes it sound like ransom for some punk not knocking over your grandmother and stealing her purse."

"When Rebecca takes a step to you she doesn't worry about falling down. Or how much it might hurt if she fails. When she decides to climb onto the couch by herself she doesn't consider the implication of bruising or embarassment if she can't quiet make it by herself. She trusts you to help her out. To reach out and catch her. Or to comfort her if she needs it. That's what government it, Toby. In a perfect society it's the freedom to go about your day to day life knowing that someone bigger, stronger, and smarter is keeping the wolves at bay and standing by to offer a boost if you need a leg up to a better place." Her yawn made her jaw pop and he coaxed her head down onto his shoulder. "I love you," she told him. "I trust you to figure it out and make it work. And maybe that doesn't mean reelection. Maybe it means an issue-driven campaign. A real awakening of the human conscience. You can lose the race and still benefit from it."

Toby snorted.

"Okay, maybe _you_ can't. But you'll get the rest of us through it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do, Toby."

He waited for her to explain. He kept waiting. Her breathing evened out, although he knew from the flutter of her lashes against his neck that she wasn't asleep yet. She was simply calm and peaceful, communing with him in the darkness of their bedroom.

"What if we're wrong?" he whispered. "What if _I_'m wrong?"

"Are you trying?" she whispered back. "Doing your best? Praying about it?"

He shrugged this time.

"You're fine," she murmured. "Trust me."

Toby laughed. He could do that. He could close his eyes and-for once-will himself to sleep. He could trust her to have enough faith to govern them all.


	18. Chapter 19: State of the Union Prep

"Two weeks before the speech," Leo chanted as they slipped away from Senior Staff.

As if any of them was likely to forget it. State of the Unions rarely crept by silently in the night. Usually they came about via blood, sweat, and tears. Or, in their experience, swearing and do-overs.

"What I want to know is when we get to start doing what we came for," Shae complained as she and Toby hustled after Leo.

Toby glanced over at her, his expression dubious. "And what would that be?"

"_Not_ argue with Republicans, that's for sure."

Leo's answer came flying back over his shoulder. "Then darling, you're in the wrong business."

"Shannon!"

Shannon stopped short as she stalked past Toby's office with CJ. "Yeah?" she asked, ducking her head into his office.

"Where are you going?"

It was 1 a.m. "To the gym," she told him.

"I'm out of pie."

"Do you think it's interesting that the symbol pi is the square root of the radius of the circle and that most pies are round?"

His gesture and expression reflected his opinion of the matter. She'd obviously delved into the land of idiocy.

"I'm going to the gym to run for a while. There's not going to be a pie stand in the gym, Toby."

He frowned. She'd have called it pouting but he'd have denied it. "Do you think Rosa would make me another one?"

"It's one o'clock in the morning. I think I'll have your head if you call her and tell her you ate all the pie already. Let her sleep."

"She loves me. She'd do it."

"She does. She would. She did already today. She probably will tomorrow. Which is why you love her. Which is why you should let her sleep tonight."

"The baby may be up."

"The baby will for sure be up in four more hours. It can wait until then."

That afternoon, after hearing Toby complain the day before that he couldn't work without pie and that the mess's wasn't very good, Rosa had let each of the children pick a kind of pie to make their dad. Joseph had chosen cherry, Rachel had chosen a buttermilk custard. Ben, always the industrious one, had wanted to make a chocolate pie with both top and bottom crusts. Rosa made it work. Since Rosy Redcheeks was too young to choose for herself Rosa had made the executive decision and decided on apple. For herself, and concerned about the welfare of the man who lived with her employer, Rosa had made a chicken pot pie for Sam and a spaghetti pie for Toby. All of which had been delivered after the children had completed their homework. The kids missed their parental-guidance administrators, Shannon and Toby missed the kids but were too overwhelmed to really focus on it. So the Ziegler/Guyse family had picnicked in the conference room with senior staff and assistants. There was very little pie left when they had to go home. Now Toby needed more.

"Okay..." he admitted. "You're just going to go run?"

"Yeah. I need to exhaust myself. I can be both brain dead and fully functional on the treadmill then I'll catch a couple hours of sleep."

"You're going home?"

She nodded. "Just for a little while. I want to sleep in my own bed. I need a really long, hot shower, and I want to be there when the kids wake up this morning."

He nodded.

"I'll tell them you love them."

"I do," he said glumly.

"They know it. They made you pie. And brought it to you at work. And wanted to know how your day was. They love you back. They realize this is important."

What she didn't realize was that he'd tucked a quickly written note in each of the kid's pockets before they put their coats on. They'd find them the next morning when Rosa gave each of them their money for the man selling pencils for the mission they passed every morning.

"I know. I love you, too," he told her.

She nodded. She hadn't lain in a bed beside him in nearly a week. Her smile was soft and warm as she tapped twice on the doorframe. "I know it. I'll see you in a little bit."

She started to walk away.

"Shannon ?" Toby gestured with both hands held out wide. She lifted her brows in question. "You love me, too? 'Don't work too hard, Toby,'? Something of that nature?"

Her grin spread quickly. "I'll stop and pick up some pie on my way back in," she said instead. But he heard the words he'd wanted to hear in the promise.


	19. Chapter 20: A Big Mistake

Josh and Sam went their separate ways in the hall leading to the assistant's pool. When Sam couldn't catch her in her office he called Shae's cell, which went to voicemail since she was in the situation room, so he left her a page-a 911 message attached.

"Didn't go well?" she asked minutes later.

"Very, very badly."

The younger woman was silent for a few minutes. "Shit," she said summarily when she could find her voice again. Sam heard her breath woosh out. "Fine. Let me get out of this, then I'll be right there. I want copies of the deposition."

Sam remembered again how skilled a litigator she'd been in her very brief career as such.

"Well?" CJ asked when her partner in crime had been given the play-by-play by both men.

"Counter-sue," she said without looking up from her legal pad. "We depose the deposer. Use freedom of information against him. Find a sympathetic judge to sign warrants for the file and ask him point blank for his source."

"It doesn't really matter who the source was, does it? I mean...by then the story will have broken. Josh just became the poster boy for-"

Shannon shrugged. "It matters. It was illegally obtained documentation. Somebody needs to pay for that."

"Won't it be dropped as a nuisance suit?" Josh asked.

Shae shook her head. "Hell, no. This is the fight privacy activists-from both sides of the fence-have been gearing up for. They're going to argue that the public has a right to know what their governing leaders are doing. We're going to say that personal time is personal and private crises are just that unless or until they effect job performance. High as a kite Leo McGarry is twice the man any of them are. He drove State better while he was stoned than four of his predecessors did with nothing in thier systems stronger than a Shirley Temple."

"Really don't think that's going to play well on the front page," CJ countered.

Shannon shrugged. "I really don't care. We stand by our man. He's clean and he's sober. Bottom line. He's clean and he's sober. I volunteered to take a drug test. He can, too. He'll pass it."

"It still paints a-"

"Forget it, Toby."

"It paints a-"

"He's clean and he-"

"Dammit, Shae! It paints a damn picture! It paints a picture of a man with a weakness he can't control! A man whose demons get hte best of him!"

"We all have demons that get the best of us! Just because Kathy can't walk past a donut without eating it doesn't mean she's unfit for government service! I know for a fact that Megan has a sealed juvie file because she gets mad at boyfriends and destroys their stuff. Does that make her a bad person? No. It makes her a nut, but there's no law against that yet. So long as her tendancy to date losers and then react violently when she catches them cheating doesn't effect her job performance, I don't give a rip. Her personal time is just that. Personal. Not public. Leo's not dealing out of the Oval. He's not funnelling government funding into organizations that specialize in treating addiciton through carefully monitored doses of the drugs. We didn't put him on the Pharmaceutical Testors of America Committee. If he falls off the wagon tomorrow it won't end the world as we know it. We'll figure out where he landed and how bad it is, then we'll pick him up and dry him out and keep on trucking. And we'll do it because he's ours, not because he's going to embarass us. Now call the damn counsel's office and let's get this rolling."

"Can it come from the White House Counsel's Office?" Sam asked.

Shannon held out her hand. "Good catch. I'll call the McGarry family lawyer. Let's attack privacy with a personal suit."

"No way this ends well," Toby warned.

"We were already there anyway. Let's make certain that no employee of any medical facility-or any facility whatsoever that ensures discretion-ever, _ever _gives away sensitive or protected material or information again. I want people to see the word confidentiality and back away with both hands covering their eyes."

Josh's loathing filled the room. "I don't care if they see it. I want both their hands keeping their mouths shut."

"Amen. Now let me go solve Cuba again before anybody else gets subpoenaed for something that can snowball out of control."

"Good luck," CJ called as the other woman left the room.

"You're not going to want to take swings at me because of my income. Trust me...you're going to want to ease slowly away from that sleeping bear," Junior Deputy Chief of Staff Shannon Guyse warned.

The old white men she addressed weren't impressed. "We'll bring you down if you go there," the whip told her.

"You're going to look stupid. But go ahead. Take me on. Take on Leo McGarry. It's no crime to be wealthy in this country."

"It doesn't have to be a crime to paint a picture," came an aide's low voice.

"Anytime you want a look at my checkbook..." Guyse shrugged, gathered her files, and left the room.

"How does that not backfire on us?" Sam asked.

"Soft on the working class? I _earned _my money Sam. I took what I got and I've grown it. Let 'em come for me."

"Yeah, but when we're talking about cutting salaries and funding more government help programs-why isn't it expected that certain staffers also evaluate our incomes?"

"Fine. Men go first. You need two tuxes." She halted in the corridor and regarded him seriously. "White House staffers-and even members of Congress, I suppose-are expected to appear a number of places which require certain dress. If for no other reason I'm not suggesting that CJ Cregg and Moira Kelly and Charlie Young volunteer to give up part of their paychecks."

"What about me?"

"You come from private sector. You should have saved for a rainy day. Plus, we're back to you being a guy. You need a total of two tuxedos. Women need a new dress every fourteen seconds around here."

"So why aren't you worried?"

She shrugged.

Later he took it to Toby. "Why isn't she worried?"

Toby shrugged. "She gives to the church. She gives to the poor. She's covered."

"But she owns three hotels and a couple of warehouses and her profit margin is incredible. Her kids go to the most expensive private school in the district..."

"Did you get those numbers from state?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So, those numbers don't include the fact that one of those hotels is actually a shelter for underage women experiencing domestic violence at home. She funds a soup kitchen from the back of one of those warehouses. And, along with her own tuition, she pays tuition for four children at two other private schools-schools for kids with special needs-so that they get the care and rehabilitation they need without putting a strain on the parents. And that's what I know about. I don't think we've got anything to worry about on that score. And Leo's the one who taught her that the well-placed charitable donation can greatly behoove a fortune of unthinkable proportions, so I wouldn't lose any sleep over him, either."

"You're right," Sam agreed in relief. "Leo would know how to manipulate his giving so that it best reflected his bottom line."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "Leo is a financial genius. But he raised his kids to do the right thing. And the right thing, if you've got more money than the Rockefellers, is to give some of it back. She doesn't donate so that it looks good or keeps her out of trouble at tax time. She puts out funds because she can. Because it's right."


	20. Chapter 21:Vowsand Whimsey

"What is wrong with us?" Shannon asked Toby as they swam through piles of paper in the conference room.

:What do you mean?" he asked, looking up from his own stack of documents.

"We are in the middle of the busiest time of the year and we're embarking on this?"

He raised his brows at her. Thus far his tenure at the White House hadn't seen a whole lot of down time. There were rare occasions when he didn't work 16 hours a day, but they were few and far between.

"Shae," he began carefully. "This amendment is something that has to get done while this congress is still in session. Otherwise-"

She laughed, shoving a hank of hair out of her face. He was relieved to see the genuine, easy smile on her face.

Some women, especially women of a certain age, seemed older and more worn when they were tired. Something in their eyes betrayed their despair and when their makeup wore off and the lighting hit them just so…being tired seemed to intensify the lines and age them even more. Not so with the woman across the table from him. She was exhausted, her face scrubbed clean of cosmetics, her face pale from too many fluorescent lights and not enough sunshine. And instead of appearing more haggard, she looked even more beautiful - - younger and more fragile and somehow luminous.

"I love you," he said. She, too, was speaking even as he spoke.

"I meant the wedding."

Now the fleeting joy on his face disappeared again.

"Shae, baby-"

She waved her hands in front of her face. That big hunk of a ring that marked her as his flashed and flared. "I don't mean ever. I mean _right now_. It's soooo crazy. Crazy to be planning this huge affair…"

Okay. He'd take the hit on the timing. But it seemed important. And her "huge" affair was just under a hundred people. Fairly small and private considering all the people he knew and all the people she knew. When Leo'd mentioned guest lists and told Toby to draw up the numbers from his side there'd been a moment's disquietude.

They knew a _lot _of people. The Guyse & McGarry people had scheduled a sit-down with the protocol office to discuss the location and event and guests. That had tickled Toby and ticked off Shannon.

"I wanted to marry you two months ago," he reminded her. "I offered to take you to a beach. To do it quick and quiet."

"I wanted that, too. But I wanted my family there, too."  
"Unfortunately, your family has been involved in politics and all things military since shortly after Washington crossed the Delaware. It kind of grew from that."

She pouted, propping her chin on one hand.

He felt that he needed to press his advantage.

"Besides. The save-the-date cards have already gone out. You bought a dress. You picked out a caterer. What's left?"

"Attendants," she started listing on her fingers. "Tastings, cake, napkins, actual ceremony details, tuxes, band and dj, flowers-"

"You like calla lilies, I have a tux, the guys have tuxes, and who the hell cares about napkins?"

She frowned at him. "Okay, I'll give over on the napkins thing."

"I thought you had a list of attendants narrowed down."

"I thought so, too. I want Mallory and Megan. But I feel like I need to ask CJ and your sisters."

"Yeah…"

"That's five. That's a lot. Plus Rachel and your other nieces."

"Thank God Rebecca's too little to remember this crap," he moaned.

"Yep. But I still want to get her a couple of simple dresses made so that she matches everybody else in the pictures."

"A couple?"

Shannon glared at him. "She's a baby, Toby. She's going to drool, spit-up, and crawl around on the floor. Bad things happen to bridal satin that gets drooled on."

"Your gown's beautiful," he declared. It stopped her in her tracks.

It was.

She'd chosen to use the lace, pearl-embellished jacket from Jenny McGarry's wedding gown over a full-length skirt in a darker ivory. Instead of a veil she'd decided to wear flowers in her hair.

When the day came, when he stood next to his best friend in a dark grey tux he'd had to buy for just this occasion, he decided she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She'd been preceded in by five of his favorite women. They'd each taken to heart Shannon's orders to design their own gowns in some hue of an autumn sunset. CJ wore a dark gold, Mallory a dusty rose, Megan palest pink, Christine's in a melon-y sherbet shade, and Lisbeth had chosen a dark russet. All five women carried bouquets of full-bloomed roses in every shade- - - pinks and reds and orange and yellow and white. His girls wore dresses in shades similar to their mothers'. Where the women each wore a different design, the flower girls' were all three-quarter sleeve velvet bodices with satin skirts.

Deigning not to be part of the pre-show, Benjamin and Joseph stood next to him in identical tuxes. Toby heard Joe sigh as the crowd rose with the opening strains of the wedding march…as their friends and family turned to where she would appear on Leo's arm…as she walked toward him, that smile in place.

She just glowed.

He knew, _knew_ that his world would never be the same. She stood tall and statuesque beside the man who had taken her in after the death of her father.

The long, dark hair was swept up and around her ears, draping in long curls down her shoulders and back. The flowers in her own bouquet were creamy against her fair skin. The thick, smooth satin of the column skirt made it seem like she was gliding toward him.

And she smiled.

And as he watched she winked at him, then ducked her head in a blush when he winked back.

Then Leo was laying her hand in his. Mallory was reaching to take the roses from her hands. And she was his.

Toby clasped her elbows in his palms and drew her in for a kiss before the official ever had a chance to start.

She was blushing as the crowd applauded their approval…


End file.
